


Every Arrow That I Aim Is True

by estrella30



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Canon Compliant, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Future Fic, Happy Ending, M/M, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-14
Updated: 2015-02-14
Packaged: 2018-03-12 05:32:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3345380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/estrella30/pseuds/estrella30
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I can see you don’t believe me,” Harry says, pretending to be stern. Louis chuckles a little but doesn’t get out of the bed. “Anyway, I texted Liam and told him you’re with me. He said to stay here as long as you need, and he’ll deal with the show over there until you want to come back, all right?”</p><p>Louis doesn’t say anything again so Harry whispers, “Just stay here with me for a while, yeah? I’ll take care of you.”</p><p>Louis is quiet. He never picks his head up, but Harry can see the pillow move from where he’s nodding and his fingers tighten around Harry’s. “Yeah,” Louis says. “Yeah, all right.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Every Arrow That I Aim Is True

**Author's Note:**

> HAPPY VALENTINES DAY, EVERYONE!!! here! have some harry/louis futurefic schmoop!! <3
> 
> oh my god, so anyway, this is my first ever completed big bang???? ahhhh!
> 
> first off, this fic is for fromcainwithlove who gave me an idea for a story a while back that I was meant to be writing her, and somehow that idea turned into THIS so, thank you! this is for you!
> 
> I partly blame harry styles also, because he tweeted about kacey musgraves who I LOVE, and when I was listening to her album after that there is a song on it called I Miss You which made me sort of DESPERATELY think about harry and louis and that's where the rest of the idea for the fic came from. so...harry styles, you are partly to blame :)
> 
> so many thank to so many people. Bec for reading along as always and Jess for the ridiculously great multiple betas. thank you Tora for britpicking and then Brie and Cass for reading the final product and making suggestions on how to make it better. you are ALL GREAT <33333
> 
> thanks to idctbqh for an amazing mix!! you are terrific!!
> 
> and finally, there can never be enough thanks for the BB mods for running this and arranging it and scheduling it and basically making it all happen. you guys are AMAZING. thank you SO MUCH for your time and effort in doing this so we all have new fics to read!!
> 
> any remaining mistakes are entirely my own

*

 

It’s far too warm out for half three in the morning, and the third step on the side porch creaks under the weight of Harry’s boot as he makes his way into his house. 

Harry’s ears are still ringing; a little from the noise back at the bar, a little from the one too many pints he’d had after his set, and more than a little from the bone deep tired he’s been feeling the past few days. Even after all these years, summer in the south still knocks the breath out of him. He barely remembers from one year to the next the way the heat feels like a physical weight against his chest, the air seeming too thick to even breathe, but then it’s June, then July, and then August, and Harry remembers. 

The house is cool, at least. Dark and quiet, it smells like the thick citrus candle he’d bought last week. He flicks the light on over the sink in the kitchen and stands at the counter, running his wrists under the taps to cool down. 

It’s late, and Harry’s mobile buzzes in his pocket. 

He knows he should answer it - it could be Gemma or his mum, Lou or Tom, or one of the lads, even - but Harry’s tired, his voice is shot from singing, and his fingers have blisters starting under the skin from playing guitar all night. He shuts the tap off and runs damp hands through his hair, knocking his hat onto the floor and twisting his hair up into a messy bun he sets with a hair band he’d kept around his wrist all night. It’s hot pink with silver sparkles. Harry thinks it might be one of Lux’s. 

His mobile buzzes again. 

Harry stumbles a bit to the side, and lists across the floor, dropping clothing piece by piece as he makes his way to the stairs leading up to his bedroom. He’ll be annoyed at himself tomorrow when he has to walk around picking up his jeans and t-shirt and socks and the sweaty flannel shirt he’d worn on stage, but right now all he wants is to get into his bed and sleep for about a hundred years. 

He’ll check to see who keeps calling in the morning. 

*

Harry wakes to the sound of his screen door banging open and two sets of footsteps clattering across his living room floor. One set is almost warp speed fast, and the other is slower, coming up behind the first. He shoves himself up against the headboard, and counts to three under his breath, timing it perfectly to his bedroom door being flung open, and a messy mop of blond hair poking its way inside. 

“‘Mornin Uncle Harry.”

Harry rubs a hand over his face and smiles. He knows he should be cross - he’d told Pax and Lux a thousand times not to just come barging into his bedroom without knocking - but then Pax looks up, eyes bright and a gaping hole in the front of his mouth where he’d had a front tooth just yesterday, and Harry forgets how to be upset with either of them. 

“Pax my man,” Harry says. He pats the covers next to him, and Pax comes running in, jumping onto the bed in one long leap. “What happened to your tooth, buddy?”

“Came out,” Pax says and shrugs. 

“It was gross,” Lux says. Harry looks over and finds her leaning in the doorway sullenly, barely looking up from where she’s texting someone on her mobile. “ _He’s_ gross.”

“Am not,” Pax says with a pout. He blows a raspberry in Lux’s direction, and Lux rolls her eyes.

“Aww, Luxie,” Harry says, then stops when Lux shoots him a withering glare. He holds his hands up in surrender and apologizes as quick as he can. “Sorry, I forgot.”

“Honestly, Uncle Harry,” Lux sighs and Harry has to bite his lip to keep from smiling. “Luxie is a _terrible_ name.”

“Horrible,” Harry agrees. “You’re right.” He decides not to remind her she called herself Luxie for the first ten years of her life, and while she might have got over it by the ripe old age of thirteen, Harry and everyone who knows her might need a little bit of time. Harry remembers a full six months where Gemma insisted everyone call her Raindrop Flowersparkle, though. He’s fairly certain he can handle this. “Worst name ever. In fact, where’s your mum? I think I should have a word with her.”

He stands up from the bed and scoops up a shrieking Pax into his arms, then pretends to stomp around his bedroom angrily, kicking aside random hats and scarves that are lying on the floor. He knows Lux loves it, that she’s trying desperately not to laugh, so Harry keeps going, carrying on louder and more dramatically with every step he takes. “Naming a _perfectly_ normal baby something ridiculous like _Lux_. Lux! Imagine that! Honestly, what on _earth_ was she _thinking_. Why I oughta--”

“Oi!” Harry hears Lou bellow up from the bottom of the stairs, the front door slamming closed behind her. “Where in the hell are my two monsters? What did I tell you two about waking Uncle Harry up at the arsecrack of dawn every day?”

Lux rolls her eyes and turns toward where her mum’s voice is coming from, but then she stops and swings back, standing on her toes to press a kiss against Harry’s cheek. Harry closes his eyes and pulls her close when she goes to back away, then kisses the top of her head and messes up her hair. Even though she’s pretending not to, Harry knows she’s smiling. He considers it a win for today. 

“Coming, Mum,” Lux calls out. 

Harry tickles Pax’s ribs and follows Lux down the steps to where Lou is waiting with her hands planted on her hips, her bare foot tapping on the floor. She’s got her hair pulled back into a bun and is in a short black dress Harry remembers from when she was just about as pregnant with Pax. Pax was born in the spring though, and every time Harry starts to complain about the heat he thinks about what it would be like to be just as hot and also nine months pregnant and he shuts up quickly. 

When they get to the bottom of the stairs Harry swings Pax in a circle then drops him to his feet, messing up the top of his hair and bending down to kiss him on the cheek. The sun is shining bright through the living room windows, and it’s already hot with barely a breeze moving the curtains in any room of the house. 

“Do you want a cuppa, Uncle Harry?” Lux calls from the kitchen. 

Harry scratches his stomach and cracks his neck. “Nah. I think I’ve got some sweet in the fridge if you want.”

“I want sweet!” Pax shouts. “Me! I want sweet!”

“The last thing in the world you need right now is sweet tea, you monster,” Lou mutters, but she sighs and lets him run into the kitchen to find Lux. The two of them sound like they’re doing fine together - there’s minimal arguing and nothing’s broken yet - so Harry takes a second to pick up the t-shirt that’s still lying on the floor from last night and pulls it over his head. 

“They didn’t interrupt you or anything, did they?” Lou asks. She wiggles her eyebrows and looks up toward the bedroom. 

Harry rolls his eyes and shakes his head. “Nah. Just having a lie in.”

Lou’s belly is huge. Harry either doesn’t remember her being this big when she was pregnant with Pax, or she’s even bigger with this baby. He can’t decide. All he knows is he innocently mentioned it to Tom once and Tom went white, advising Harry to never, _ever_ say anything about it to Lou or she would chop him up into tiny pieces and hide the evidence in about six different states across the south. 

Harry feels himself grinning and kneels on the floor in front of her, cupping his hands around her belly and murmuring, “Good morning, little man. You being good to your mamma today?”

“Oi, I told you to stop calling it that.” Lou smacks Harry on the side of the head, but then she rests her hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently. “We don’t know what this one’s going to be. If it winds up being a girl you’ve been calling little man for the past nine months I’m going to wring your fucking neck.”

“Ssh!” Harry scolds. “Language!” Lou laughs and digs her nails into his shoulder. Harry ignores her and keeps talking to the baby, telling him all about Harry’s show last night and how many people were there. He talks to the baby about the new song he’s writing and how he’s not sure if the middle bridge is going to work or not. The baby goes still when Harry starts talking, but by the end Harry can feel where he’s pushing against Lou’s belly from the inside, moving all around to Harry’s voice. 

Lou doesn’t know what she’s talking about. This baby is definitely a boy.

“You need a trim,” Lou says, after Harry’s quiet for a few minutes, just resting with his ear pressed against her stomach. 

He shrugs and shakes his head. “Nah.”

“Just a bit,” Lou repeats. She cards her fingers through his hair and tugs gently.“It’s well past your shoulders now. I’ve got to trim the ends, or it’ll just stay that length.”

“Whatever.” Harry presses a last kiss to the baby and stands up, scratching under his armpit. “So what are you and the kids up to today?”

“Not too much, really,” Lou says. “Tom’s not getting back from his trip for another few days. I should probably send them out into the garden to pick whatever’s ripe but then I’ve got to can it or cook it or…” she trails off, a glazed look in her eye. “Maybe I’ll have them pick it and just bin it all.”

“Louise,” Harry warns, narrowing his eyes. Lou glares back and taps her foot. Harry sighs and looks up at the ceiling, then down at the floor, then over to the side. Lou clears her throat - a loud and pointed, _eh HEM_ \- and Harry starts to laugh because of how ridiculous they’re both being. 

“All right!” Harry shouts. “All right, fine! Lemme get changed, and I’ll come over and help the kids pick everything from the garden. And then,” he says, interrupting when Lou opens her mouth to speak. “I’ll help you make a sauce and start canning all the fruits, all right?”

Lou beams and waddles over to kiss him square on the mouth. “You know you’ve always been my favorite, Harry.”

Just then Pax appears in the doorway, frowning and with his skinny arms crossed over his chest. “Hey.”

Harry chuckles to himself and rummages around until he finds his wallet on the dining room table under a pile of loose sheet music. He pulls two twenty dollar bills from inside and curls one into each palm. No matter how long he lives in America this money will always look strange to him, like play money. It’s all Pax has ever known though, and Harry knows he’ll be thrilled to get such a big bill for a lost tooth. 

“Here,” Harry says, holding out one of the twenties. Pax’s eyes go wide, and his arms drop to his sides. He looks from the bill up to Harry and then back again. 

“For _me_?”

“To give the tooth fairy a head start,” Harry says, smiling at him. 

Harry doesn’t even have to look to know Lou is rolling her eyes. “He gives the kid a flipping twenty dollar bill for a lost tooth,” she mutters. “I might as well start knocking out my own teeth for some extra cash if that’s going to be the case.”

Harry waits until Pax is curled around his legs, hugging and thanking Harry for the money before raising his hand to give her the finger. “Make sure you save that for something good, Pax a lax, all right?”

“I’m going to get _cars_ with it!” Pax shouts. Lou groans and from where Lux has appeared in the kitchen doorway holding a full glass of sweet tea, Harry can see her overdramatically sigh and roll her eyes. 

He gives Pax a last kiss to the head and stands up, walking over and pressing the second twenty into Lux’s palm.

“What’s this for?” she mumbles. 

Harry brushes the thin wisps of hair back from her forehead. He remembers when Lux was born and when she was a tiny baby and then a toddler and then a little girl. It’s impossible sometimes to reconcile that little girl with the teenager standing in front of him, glaring murderously at her baby brother and judging every single adult she knows. 

“Next time you’re at the shops get some makeup or something.” Harry tells her. “Or sweets, I don’t much care.”

Lux’s cheeks go pink and she drops her head, but she hands Harry the glass of tea and hugs him around the middle. “Thank you.”

“All right.” Lou claps her hands and both of her kids and Harry all look at her at the same time. “You’ve both now officially woken Uncle Harry up from his lie in and cost him forty dollars all before he’s even put a proper pair of trousers on. I think it’s time for us to go.”

Harry laughs, and the kids give him goodbye kisses. He promises to see them after he’s showered and got dressed. They make plans to do some gardening, and he offers to bring the steaks he’s got marinating in the fridge to grill after it gets dark. 

“Make sure you answer this, too,” Lou says, as she kicks at Harry’s jeans still lying on the floor from the night before. “It’s been buzzing the whole time I’ve been standing here.”

“Shit, that’s right,” Harry says, clapping a hand over his mouth when Pax gasps at the swear word. “Someone was texting me last night when I got home, but I was too knackered to answer it.” He looks up at Lou and feels his eyes go wide. “It wasn’t you, was it?”

“Well a fat fucking lot of good it would have been if it was, yeah?” Harry feels terrible. Lou is his friend. She’s pregnant - very, tremendously, _hugely_ pregnant - and here he is ignoring calls and falling asleep while someone’s clearly trying to get in touch with him.

“Oi, don’t give me that face,” Lou sighs. “It wasn’t me. Whoever it was though must still be trying. I’d get it for you but that would involved bending over, and that’s not happening any time soon.”

Harry laughs and reaches down to grab the jeans himself. He shakes the pockets around until he finds his mobile, and it’s true, there are about a billion missed texts, all from Louis.

“Huh.” Harry feels his forehead wrinkle into a frown. “Weird.”

“Who is it?” Lou comes over and peers over Harry’s shoulder. 

Harry scrolls, reading through the messages and just getting more and more confused. 

“It was Louis. He said everything is fine, he’s doing great, everyone is great, just kept texting to see how I am and how the shows have been going and everything.”

“That’s not weird,” Lou says dismissively. “You and Louis talk nearly every day as is. Remember that time Louis was away and didn’t call you for _almost a week_ , and you nearly birthed kittens? That was fun for everyone.”

“Piss off,” Harry murmurs. He kicks his foot out to catch her on the ankle, but he does it so gently that she laughs at him. “It’s just strange. I spoke to Lou like, two days ago. These texts are all...wondering where I am, if I’m home, if I’m going to be going anywhere for shows.” Harry shrugs. “It’s just odd.”

“Hmm, Louis Tomlinson, acting odd,” Lou muses. “This is shocking. You should call the news and inform them.”

“All right, _anyway_ ,” Harry says. He thumbs his mobile off and flips it over in his hand. He’ll ring Louis back as soon as Lou and the kids leave. 

“Anyway,” Lou repeats and yanks on Harry’s hair as a goodbye. “Come over whenever. I’ll have the child labor already out doing the gardening.”

“Sounds good,” Harry says, and kisses each of the kids goodbye one more time. “I’ll be over in a little bit.”

“Bye, Uncle Harry!” Pax shouts and waves his twenty dollar bill in the air. If he even makes it to a shop with the money before losing it it’ll be a miracle. “See you later!”

“Thank you again for the gift, Uncle Harry,” Lux says, much quieter than her brother. Pax takes Lux by the hand and yanks her out the door, and Harry laughs, leaning in the doorway as Lou hobbles down the steps. 

“Don’t forget the steaks!” Lou calls as they all head across the square of land that separates their two houses. The lawn’s getting long, the grass nearly up to Pax’s knees. Harry should get out there and cut it in the next day or so. He’ll take Pax with him on the mower. Pax will love that. “Your future third godchild needs their protein!” Lou adds. 

Harry rolls his eyes and laughs to himself. “Good _bye_ , Louise!” he calls, and watches them all walk away until they disappear from view. 

*

Harry’s sitting back in his chair on the patio, belly full of food and head pleasantly spinning from the bottle of red he drank with dinner. It’s a bit cooler tonight - there’s actually a small breeze in the air - and Harry reaches behind him and fumbles with the rubber band Lux had fastened to his hair when she and Pax were busy putting it in a fancy plait earlier that night. 

He gets the band out and shakes his head, letting his hair fall loose and long against his shoulders and back. Lou is leaning back in her chair with her head tipped against the headrest, a small smile on her face. 

“You ever get in touch with Louis earlier?” Lou asks. 

Harry shakes his head. “Left him a message, but he never called me back. Must not have been too important after all,” he adds with a shrug.

Lou hums quietly, then taps her foot against Harry’s leg and curls her toes in his lap. “Thanks for coming over today,” she says.

Harry shrugs even though her eyes are closed and she can’t see him. “No problem.”

“And thanks for helping the kids in the garden. And for making sauce with the tomatoes. And for grilling the steaks.”

Harry laughs. He picks up his glass and turns it around slowly, watching when the light from the flickering candles hits the glass and makes it sparkle. He finishes his wine and puts the glass back down, turning the bottom until it lines up with one of the tiles on the table. He flattens his fingers around the edges of the base. 

“You know I love coming over and seeing the kids,” Harry says. 

Lou lifts her head and opens her eyes. She raises a single eyebrow at him. “Anyone else?”

“Hmm. Not sure,” Harry answers and shrugs. Lou’s eyes narrow into slits. Harry has to bite back a laugh when he says, “I miss Tom, I suppose. When is he going to be back anyway?”

“Obnoxious little fucker,” Lou hisses. Harry starts to laugh as she squirms around in her chair trying to find nearby things to throw at him. She can barely sit up, placing her hand on the top of her belly as she tries to reach her napkin on the table, and Harry jumps up and snatches it out of reach before she can get to it. “Oi, I’m going to kill you, Styles.”

“Ha,” Harry says. He’s standing up now, twirling the napkin around his head in circles. Lou looks like she wants to brain him. “Lies. You love me.”

“Nope.” Lou shakes her head. “Worst human on earth, is what you are.”

“Am not.”

“Are too!”

“Am not!”

“Are _too_.”

“Ooh! Are we playing a game?” 

Pax sticks his head out onto the porch from where’s he’s been inside watching Finding Nemo for the four billionth time. He’s in a pair of race car pajamas that are too short in the legs and his hair is sticking up in about ten different directions. Harry hears Lux’s footsteps coming up behind him, and then she pokes her head out too, a small smile touching his lips. 

“Are you picking on my mum, Uncle Harry?” Lux teases.

Harry plants his hands on his hips and pretends to glare at her. “Hey! I thought you’d be on my side!”

Lux pads out in her nightgown and fuzzy pink slippers and sits on the edge of Lou’s chair, leaning her head against her mum’s shoulder. Lou looks so pleased Harry can barely stand it. Lux spends so much time these days trying to perfect the art of being a sullen teenager that having her sit on her mum’s lap is rare. 

“Sorry Uncle Harry,” Lux says seriously. “Us girls need to stick together.”

Lou holds up a fist, and Lux bumps her own against it, then blushes pink when Lou presses a loud kiss against her cheek. 

“Does that mean that we get to stick together then?” Pax asks Harry. He’s got wide hopeful eyes, and Harry can’t stand it. He loves them all so much he can barely breathe with it. 

He scoops Pax up and settles back into his chair, fingers tickling deep into Pax’s ribs while Pax laughs hysterically. “That’s right, my man. Us boys will stick together, too. That’ll make it fair, yeah? Two against two.”

“Yeah!” Pax shouts. “Boys rule! Two against two!”

There’s a sound then that Harry hears over the girls’ quiet chatter and Pax’s laughing. It’s so faint he barely notices it, but after living out in the middle of nowhere for so long his ears are trained to pick up even the littlest of sounds. It’s like a creak, a rustle even, and then the sound of footsteps cracking down on leaves and twigs. 

Harry smiles. Tom’s home early then. 

He pulls Pax close to his chest and whispers, “Ssh,” against his ear. Pax looks up at him questioningly, and Harry says, “I think someone’s here to surprise you guys.” 

Everyone’s gone quiet now because Lou and Lux have cottoned onto the footsteps just like Harry’s done. Lou shoots a look at Harry and raises a shoulder. “I guess Tom’s back early?”

“Looks that way,” Harry says and smiles. He’s happy for them. The kids miss their dad, and Lou is so very pregnant another set of hands around the house will definitely be a help. Harry tries to be around as much as he can, but he plays shows at night more often than not and usually sleeps a bit later in the day than Lou and the kids. It’ll be good to have Tom home again. Harry’s thrilled. 

Then the person walking up the lawn turns the corner of the house, and Harry’s body freezes, because even in a split second he knows it’s not Tom. This person is shorter than Tom and not as lean. He can see from the shadow that whoever it is has got a bag hanging over their shoulder, and Harry pulls Pax closer, sitting up straight in his chair. 

When he hears the person whistling his heart trips up, before stuttering far too fast in his chest. 

“No way,” Harry says quietly, eyes gone wide. He licks his lips and looks over at Lou who’s watching him curiously. “There’s no way that’s--”

“ _Uncle Louis!_ ”

Lux and Pax screech in unison when Louis is around the corner of the house and standing in full view in the open garden. Harry feels his mouth drop open, and Lou makes a surprised squeaking noise as she tries to hoist herself up from her chair. Harry stands up the second Pax jumps off his lap. His legs are shaky, and he has to rub a hand over his eyes to convince himself he’s not seeing things - but that’s definitely Louis right there, standing in the middle of Lou’s garden in a pair of fancy black trousers and a sharply pressed bright blue dress shirt. 

“Oh my,” Louis says seriously. His voice is quiet and achingly familiar. Harry speaks to him all the time, but it’s always on Skype or when they’re both on their mobiles with a million hour time difference between them. He’s not heard Louis’s voice is person in so, so long, and it’s ridiculous, really, the way Harry’s throat goes tight and his eyes prick with tears at the sound. 

Louis looks up at Harry, and Lou and pretends to be confused. “Do either of you know where Lux or Pax are?”

Lux rolls her eyes and grins, rushing over to hug Louis tightly around the middle. Pax giggles delightedly and clings to Louis’s left leg in the closest thing to a death grip Harry’s ever seen. 

“It’s _us_ , Uncle Lou!” Pax shrieks. 

“Impossible,” Louis says gravely. “The Lux and Pax I know are little babies, not these two grown up big _kids_. Now where are they? Do you have them hidden someplace?” Louis picks Pax up and tosses him over his shoulder, and curls an arm around Lux’s waist. “Lux! Pax!” he calls out. “Come on out, now! Come out and say hello!”

The kids both laugh and let Louis carry on a few more times before he puts Pax down and kneels in the damp grass right there in his fancy trousers. He pulls both kids into a hug so tight Harry hears Lou make a sound in the back of her throat, and Harry knows. He gets it. It’s a lot for him to be seeing Louis right here, too. 

“I’ve missed you two monsters,” Louis says tightly. Lux clings to Louis’s neck and kisses him. When she pulls back her eyes are wet. 

“Why are you here?” she asks excitedly. “Are you staying? When do you have to go back?”

“I’m here for a visit, Luxie,” Louis says. Harry waits for Lux’s protest - her standard, _Ugh, God, that’s not my NAME_ that he’s heard non-stop for the past six months - but nothing happens. She just cuddles closer to Louis’s chest and closes her eyes. 

Harry frowns. Well then. He can see how it is.

“And I’ll be here for a bit.” Louis looks up and catches Harry’s eye for maybe the first time since he’s appeared in Lou’s garden. Harry feels everything go warm in his chest from the way Louis is looking at him. He’s Harry’s best mate and his brother and the person Harry’s loved the most since the very first day he met him. Having him here is making Harry so happy he could cry. 

“If your Uncle Harry is going to be around and has space for me, of course,” Louis adds.

Harry presses a knuckle against the corner of his eye and sniffs. Louis is watching him carefully, and Harry wants to laugh, almost, at how Louis could possibly think Harry would send him to a hotel, or have him camp out at Lou’s. Christ. 

“Well I _suppose_ I could put you up for a bit,” Harry says thickly, trying and failing to sound completely unaffected by Louis being here. He can’t stop smiling, is the thing. He’s got a feeling no one’s going to believe his bored face when he’s got a smile a mile wide stretching across his cheeks. “If you feel like slumming, that is.”

Louis grins and buries his face back into Lux’s hair, tickling Pax in the ribs and hiding his eyes. “I think that’ll be fine, Harold,” he says, and that’s pretty much that.

*

By the time Lux and Pax are settled enough for Harry and Louis to leave it’s well into the middle of the night. Lux had insisted on making Louis a cup of tea, and they’d all sat at the patio table until Pax fell asleep curled up in Louis’ lap, snoring softly against his shoulder. Louis helped Lou put both kids to bed and gave her a long hug, leaning down to talk softly to her belly before nodding to Harry that he was ready to go.

The two of them traipse quietly across the lawn that separates Lou’s house from Harry’s, and it’s strange, almost, to hear another set of footsteps coming up behind his when he makes his way up the porch and into the house. Not bad strange, just different. 

Harry had left a few lights on before he went out earlier in the day, and he walks around turning on a couple more while Louis drops his bag by the stairs and runs his hands through his hair. He looks bloody knackered, and Harry gets it. He’s done the trip from his home to London and back again more times than he can count. It’s long and tiring, and the jetlag is truly awful. 

Louis looks up at him and smiles, mouth barely quirking into a grin, and rubs his eyes. 

“You need to sleep,” Harry tells him. 

Louis clucks his tongue softly. “Not even going to ask me what I’m doing here? You’ve not got twenty questions all lined up and ready to go?”

“Oh, I’ve got at least twenty and then maybe about twenty more,” Harry says cheekily. He grins at Louis and nods toward the stairs. “I figured I’d be nice though, and give you a chance to rest before I hit you with all of them.”

Louis whistles softly. “The south has softened you, all right.”

Harry shrugs. “Nah. I was always a bit of a pushover to begin with.” 

Louis laughs, and it’s so easy and comfortable Harry feels a rush of affection so strong he can barely think straight. He loves his life. He loves what he does, but whenever he sees one of the lads (Louis, his brain adds. Whenever he sees _Louis_ ) he gets overwhelmed by how much he misses them all.

Right now though he doesn’t have to miss him. Louis is here, right here in Harry’s living room, taking up actual space at the bottom of Harry’s stairs, and Harry walks over and wraps his arms around Louis like he’s wanted to do since he first laid eyes on him in Lou’s garden. 

Louis is as warm as Harry remembers. His hair is just as soft, and he still smells like cologne and shampoo and cinnamon chewing gum. Louis hugs him back tightly, and Harry smoothes his hand over Louis’s back, tucking him in close to Harry’s chest and closing his eyes so he can just enjoy this. Harry has no idea why, but Louis is here. He has no idea why he came to Harry, but Harry doesn’t much care about the reason why, he’s just so happy Louis did. 

“Come on,” Harry says thickly. Louis pulls away and smiles gently as he looks down and away. “I’ll bring you up to the guest room, and we’ll get you all sorted in the morning, yeah?”

Louis laughs, a small, quiet sound. “All sorted,” he murmurs. “Right.”

It’s killing Harry not to ask Louis what’s wrong, but he bites his questions back, keeps the words firmly locked up until Louis has got some rest and some tea and maybe one or two of Harry’s freshly baked apple muffins in the morning. 

It’s only one night, after all. Harry can wait. 

*

Harry wakes early in the morning and starts a pot of coffee brewing for himself and fills a kettle with water to boil for Louis’ tea. Louis hasn’t been to visit in so long Harry has to dig around in his cupboards for the tea he keeps saved for him, but he finds it in the back behind an old jar of peanut butter, and after sniffing it, he figures it’s still good. He preheats the oven and starts collecting the things he needs to make muffins. Harry nearly drops everything he’s holding when Louis clears his throat in the doorway. 

Louis laughs quietly and tugs on a hunk of Harry’s hair when he passes him on his way into the kitchen. 

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you.”

“No, it’s fine. I just didn’t expect you up yet.” Harry dumps everything onto the counter and grins. He shoves the hair back from his face and takes in Louis’s rumpled sleep clothes and the way his eyes are still sleepy and crinkled at the edges behind a pair of glasses. Harry reaches out and touches the side of Louis’s face, his fingers trailing over the wire rim of the glasses and smiles. “Very fancy. You look like a grownup in these.”

Louis pretends to gasp in horror. “How dare you.”

Harry laughs and bumps Louis out of the way with his hip. He nods to where the kettle is starting to whistle and says, “I found your tea and a mug. Should be ready in just a minute.”

He doesn’t see Louis’s face, but his voice is quiet when he says, “Thank you.”

Harry goes about mixing up all the ingredients for the apple spice muffins he knows Louis likes best, and Louis is quiet behind him, just watching Harry work. By the time the oven is heated and Harry’s sliding the pan inside, Louis is already on his second cup of tea and has a mug of coffee made exactly how Harry likes it waiting with him on the table. 

Harry smiles in thanks and sits down, stretching his legs out so his feet are resting in Louis’s lap. 

“So, did you sleep well?” Harry asks. He blows across the top of his mug and takes a small sip. 

Louis nods unconvincingly. “Slept great, yeah.”

Harry narrows his eyes. “Wow. That was impressively bad fibbing, even for you.”

Louis shakes his head and looks down at the table, but he doesn’t deny it. He’s got his fingers curled around Harry’s ankle, and every few seconds he rubs his thumb over Harry’s skin. Harry shivers and looks down at his coffee, giving Louis a second to see if he wants to give Harry any answers yet. 

“Fibbing,” Louis says softly. He chuckles, but it’s soft and tired sounding. “No adult says _fibbing_ anymore, Harry.”

Harry shrugs and sips his coffee. “They do if they spend most of their time with a five and a thirteen year old like I do, so…”

He trails off when Louis laughs and then they both go quiet. They sit in amicable silence for a few minutes, and Harry’s relaxed enough that when the oven timer buzzes he jumps, his feet banging into the underside of the table as he flails around. Louis laughs, and Harry gets up and bustles around getting the muffins out of the oven and onto a plate while they’re still warm. He’s got some butter in the fridge, but by the time he turns back to the table with it and a knife Louis is already stuffing half of a too hot muffin in his face. 

“Oh my _god_ ,” Louis actually _moans_. Harry rolls his eyes and giggles quietly. He grabs napkins and plates and puts his muffin on one like a normal human before peeling off the liner and blowing on it to cool. 

“Are you actually eating the paper?” Harry asks as he raises an eyebrow. “You know that those are meant to be taken off.”

Louis holds up his middle finger while chewing with his eyes closed in bliss. 

“So good, Haz,” he says. He sits up and puts another muffin on his plate, picking off a huge crumb from the top and popping it into his mouth. “Better than I remembered.”

Harry feels his face go warm, and he looks down. It’s been fifteen years and he’s still so easy for Louis it’s ridiculous. 

“Thanks,” Harry mumbles. He stares at his muffin and picks it apart before popping a piece into his mouth. “So,” he starts. He’s almost dying of curiosity as to why Louis showed up here in the middle of the night without telling anyone he was coming. He’s waited _hours_ to ask what’s going on. He’s starting to twitch. 

Louis makes a little whining noise, and Harry shakes his head. He brushes off his hands and folds them together on top of the table, waiting until Louis meets his eyes.

“Can you tell me now why you’re here?” Harry asks, holding Louis’ gaze.

Louis huffs and shrugs. He watches Harry for a second before dropping his eyes and fiddling with the hem of his shirt. It’s got the Vans logo on it and a hole in the right shoulder from when Zayn dropped the head of a lit cigarette on it when they’d just got on the road for the Take Me Home tour. Louis has had it for so long the black material is faded nearly grey, and the hole in the shoulder is joined by many more, most of them so tiny they’re probably just from being washed and worn thousands of times over the years. 

Harry remembers when it was brand new, still with the price sticker hanging out the back. He’s known Louis for so long, sometimes it feels like forever, and the fact that Louis won’t tell him why he’s here is killing Harry. 

“Please, Lou.” Harry spreads his hands out on the table and stares at him. Louis’ jaw is tight; he flicks the fringe off his forehead and keeps not looking at Harry. “‘M’just worried,” Harry says softly. “Is everything all right? Are you ok?”

Harry doesn’t know what he’s expecting. Louis is the kind of person who shouts and yells and carries on about everything under the sun - from the way his tea is made to the fit of his trousers on any particular day to the song he’s heard on the radio that he either loves or hates - but when it comes to things that really matter, things that are bothering him or that hurt him, he keeps everything tucked up so tightly inside, and sometimes he won’t let anyone in. 

That’s what’s worrying Harry the most. He knows that if it were something small Louis would be banging on about it at the top of his lungs. The fact that he’s being so quiet about it means that something is really, _truly_ bothering him. 

Louis shakes his head finally, and when he looks up and catches Harry’s eye he looks almost timid. “It’s stupid.”

“You’re stupid,” Harry teases. Louis laughs though, which was what Harry was hoping for. He reaches out and lays his hand on top of Louis’s, and Louis flicks his eyes up and turns his hand over so their palms are touching. 

Louis sighs, then he slides their fingers together and says, “I’m tired, H. I’m just…” he trails off and chuckles quietly. Harry waits for him to say something else, but after a minute all Louis does is say the same thing over again. “I’m just really tired.”

Harry squeezes their fingers together and nods. “Well then you’ll just have to stay here until you feel better, all right?”

Louis looks up at him and smiles, finally, a genuine smile that reaches from the crinkles next to his eyes to the curve of his mouth. “Yeah,” he says. “Sounds great.”

 

*

Harry waits until Louis is having a kip a few hours later to text Liam. He figures that if Louis showed up here without letting Harry or Lou know, it’s entirely possible that he just picked up and left London without letting anyone there know he was going someplace. Harry knows Louis has got a lot of leeway on his show since he’s been doing it for so long, but as a friend, even more than his producer, he’s sure Liam is pissing himself if he has no idea where Louis has run off to. 

_Hiiiiii Li. I’ve got Lou here in case you were worried_

It takes a bit for Liam to text back. Even after all these years Harry’s crap at figuring out time zones, but after some quick maths Harry thinks it’s just about time that Liam would be going over that evening’s show with Louis if Louis were there. It’s possible that any other time Harry would have chosen to text Liam would have been more convenient.

Oh well. 

Liam does answer back though, and it’s not nearly as frantic as Harry had been expecting. 

_hiiiiiii harry I figured as much. take care of him hes been so stressssswed_

Harry feels his forehead crinkle and he texts back instantly. 

_What? Why? Why didn’t anyone tell me? Whats wrong???_

_just some shitty interviews and a few crap articles about him in the papers. he’s not dated in a while and then the other day someone asked him about you and niall and zayn and all and he snapped….think he just needs rest_

Harry’s mind is whirring. He’s seen Louis’s show a billion times, if not more. To be fair, Harry’s sure that every adult in all of the UK has seen Louis’s show, but still. For as long as Louis has been doing this, Harry’s never seen him as anything less than perfectly professional, witty and charming, and so bloody smart it makes Harry’s chest swell with pride every time he sees as much as a clip from it. 

People love Louis; they always have, and Harry was never surprised when Louis’ show took off. With Liam in charge and Louis’s sparkle and personality, it was guaranteed to be a success. The fact that someone Louis had on his show said or did something to make Louis snap this badly makes Harry’s stomach turn. 

_Do you have a link?_ Harry asks. _I want to see._

 _already getting it for ya… : )_ Liam texts back just as Harry’s mobile buzzes. He clicks in to watch.

*

Louis is still sleeping when Harry’s done. He doesn’t mean to wake him, really, but he also needs to see Louis and talk to him and tell him everything is going to be all right. 

The interview wasn’t _bad_ , really, but the bloke Louis had on (and Harry’s never seen him before today, but if he ever does he’s planning on giving him a stern talking to because grilling Louis on _his_ personal life on Louis’s _own bloody show_ is just not a nice thing to do) was definitely uncalled for. 

And then the questions about himself! There’s absolutely no reason why this many years later Louis still has to deal with people asking him questions about Harry, or trying to dig into Louis’s personal life for any bit of information about any of the rest of them. They’ve all gone and done their own things, sure, but they’re still _them_. They still talk and text and Skype and see each other whenever they possibly can. There’s no _rift_. Christ. Harry would laugh about the absurdity of it, if it was even the slightest bit funny. 

A _rift_. That’s just mad. Sure all of them aren’t up each others arses like they’d been in the beginning, but they all have their own things now. They’ve all grown up a bit. The fact that Louis is the only one who still puts himself out in the public eye night after night doesn’t mean anything bad. It was just the choice he made when the rest of them chose something a little more behind the scenes. 

Harry really, _really_ doesn’t like whoever it was that Louis had on the show. He’s still cross nearly an hour after watching it, and he can feel a headache starting from where he’s been frowning so hard. 

He walks into the guest room as quietly as he can and crouches down next to the bed. He lays his hand lightly on Louis’s shoulder and watches his fingers move up and down with each of Louis’s slow breaths. Louis snuffles a little in his sleep and Harry’s heart clenches tight. He loves him. He’s Harry’s best friend, and he just wants Louis to be happy. 

“Lou,” Harry whispers. Louis keeps his eyes closed and frowns, burrowing deeper under the covers and burying his head under the pillow. 

“‘M’sleeping,” Louis mumbles, his mouth curved down into a pout.

Harry rolls his eyes fondly and picks up the covers, climbing in and shoving Louis gently over so there’s room for him to lie down. Louis huffs out a sleepy laugh. Harry fusses around until he’s tucked up against Louis’ chest, Louis’ arm curled tightly around him. Their hands are slotted together, Harry’s bigger fingers covering Louis’ smaller. 

“I watched the interview,” Harry says flat out. He doesn’t want to keep anything from Louis or pretend like he’s not seen it. “You were right to get pissed at that bloke. Obnoxious twat.”

Louis doesn’t answer him exactly, but he grunts a little and Harry knows that he’s listening.

“Does that happen a lot?” Harry asks. There’s a light breeze fluttering through the window, the bedroom shade lightly tapping against the wall. “People asking shit questions about the rest of us when you’re interviewing them?”

Louis is quiet but awake. Harry can tell by the pattern of his breathing, and the tense way his fingers are curled into Harry’s where they’re resting on Harry’s belly. 

“Sometimes,” Louis finally says. “Most of the time we’re able to cut it out before it airs though, and it’s like...” Harry feels Louis shake his head. “This time it was just the _only thing_ that cock wanted to talk about. Liam tried to figure how to cut those bits but in the end he couldn’t manage.”

Harry nods, but he doesn’t understand - not really. “Is that such a bad thing?” he asks. He’s trying to figure out why Louis was so bothered by it. “People used to ask me all the time about you lads and being in One Direction. A lot nicer than that arsehole did, sure, but it’s not so strange for people to be curious.”

Louis is quiet for a second, and then asks, “When was the last time someone asked you about One Direction, Hazza?”

“What?”

“When was the last time someone asked you,” Louis repeats softly. Harry scrunches his face up and thinks. It couldn’t have been that long he figures, but when he tries to really remember he can’t even recall the last time it happened. In the beginning when he first moved out here people asked all the time, but now...Now everyone’s used to him here. He’s not Harry from One Direction anymore; down here he’s just Harry.

“That long, huh?” Louis says. He laughs sadly. “No one asks you anymore because you’ve got you’re own life here. And no one asks Niall because he’s got the recording studio. And no one asks Zayn because he’s been selling his art. And no one asks Liam because he’s producing my show. The show with _that bloke from One Direction_.” His voice is getting louder, his arm around Harry almost tense. 

“And it’s not that I’m upset,” he continues, “because I _loved_ being in the band. It’s just that--” he huffs again quietly, his voice muffled and slow when he buries his face into the back of Harry’s neck. “It’s just that I went from that right into this. I don’t think I took enough time to breathe or something maybe, and sometimes I just feel like…” His breath shakes when he inhales. Harry wants to take every one of Louis’ hurts and tuck them inside himself so Louis will feel better. He would do it if he could. 

“I just wonder all the time if I’m good at what I do _because_ of One Direction and the rest of you lads, or in addition to it. And I never really know the answer.”

“Lou…” Harry’s heart is breaking. He’s always known Louis was never really sure of his worth in the band when they first started, insane as the idea is. It’s been so long now though, that Harry truly believed Louis was past it. Apparently all it took was one too many people asking him about it, bringing it all up again to dig up every single one of Louis’ old hurts and make them new. 

“Lou, you’re _so good_ ,” Harry says, voice fierce. He rolls over and Louis has got his face shoved into the pillow. Harry runs his fingers through the back of Louis’s hair, combing it behind his ear and trailing his fingers down the side of Louis’ neck. “You’re so funny and insanely talented. People love you because you’re _you_ , because you’re _Louis_ , not because you’re Louis from that boyband from a hundred years ago.”

Louis doesn’t say anything, just shrugs his shoulder and buries his face deeper into the pillows and covers. Harry kisses the back of his head and slides out of the bed, reaching out to take Louis’s hand and gently tug him from the cocoon of blankets he seems intent on burying himself inside of. 

“I can see you don’t believe me,” Harry says, pretending to be stern. Louis chuckles a little but doesn’t get out of the bed. “Anyway, I texted Liam and told him you’re with me. He said to stay here as long as you need, and he’ll deal with the show over there until you want to come back, all right?”

Louis doesn’t say anything again so Harry whispers, “Just stay here with me for a while, yeah? I’ll take care of you.”

Louis is quiet. He never picks his head up, but Harry can see the pillow move from where he’s nodding and his fingers tighten around Harry’s. “Yeah,” Louis says. “Yeah, all right.”

Harry’s so happy he thinks his chest might burst because he can _do_ this. He can help Louis relax and take some time to learn to be happy again. He honestly can’t wait. 

“Good.” Harry tugs Louis hand and tries to pull him out of the bed. “Now come on, we’ve got gardening to do.”

“ _Ugh_ , no,” Louis mumbles and kicks his feet at Harry until he falls off the side of the bed and onto the floor. He looks up at Harry and frowns. His hair is a mess and his mouth is tipped down and he’s pouting like the angriest, most petulant toddler. It’s adorable. “I’m here to relax, Harry. That means sleep and drink tea and eat lots of muffins or something. ‘M’not here to _garden_.”

“Oh, sleep and drink tea and eat muffins,” Harry says, mouth curving into a smirk. “Is that what you think we do all day?” He rolls his eyes and laughs, reaching out and pulling Louis up from the floor. “We’ll see about that.” 

*

That bar Harry plays in a few nights a week is called the Wrong Way Inn, and the first time Harry stopped in, he needed to wee and thought the name was funny. It’s a small place, with a long wooden bartop that curves about halfway down and all the way back until it nearly meets the kitchen. There’s a tiny stage set up at in the rear, nothing more than a microphone, a stool, and a music stand Harry rests his lyrics on when he’s trying out new songs. 

The first few times Harry played there after he’d bought his house and moved in permanently, the bar was completely packed out with a queue halfway around the corner with people waiting to get in. Harry hadn’t told anyone he was going to be playing there really, but word must have got out somehow. He’d spent an hour on the phone with Niall before he picked his guitar up, telling Niall all the reasons why his set was going to bomb, and then called Louis and wound up being sick in the toilet while Louis tried to calm him down from thousands of miles away. 

Things are a lot different now. 

The crowd only made it for the first few shows, and as time went on the queues to get in got shorter and shorter. At first he thought he was going to be upset by it. After all, people not queueing up to see you meant they were forgetting about you, that you didn’t matter to them as much, didn’t it? It didn’t take long for Harry to realize he didn’t care if he didn’t matter as much to people. The people who wanted to remember him did, and the people who didn’t, didn’t. Harry was getting a bit tired of being chased around town on his motorcycle anyway. A little bit of normalcy was a welcome change. 

Tonight there’s about thirty people in the bar when Harry gets there with Louis. He’s got his guitar strapped to his back, and he knows most of the people there by name. Louis has been to see Harry play before, but he’s not a regular in the town like Harry. As Harry walks around giving hugs hello and shaking hands with every person he lays eyes on, Louis mostly hangs back. By the time they make it to the stage for Harry to put down his guitar, Louis is laughing quietly, shaking his head and watching Harry with a fond expression. 

“What?” Harry says and grins. 

“Nothing, you’re just…” Louis trails off and shrugs. He’s in a old looking short sleeved grey t-shirt, and he’d left his hair soft and loose tonight. Harry wants to touch Louis’s hair. He wants to brush it away from his face and tuck it behind his ear. He wants to take care of Louis forever it feels like. “You’re just still so _you_ ,” Louis finishes softly. “It’s like...everything that’s happened doesn’t even matter. You’re still just _Harry_.”

Harry nods and finally gives in. He reaches out and pushes the fringe on Louis’s forehead over to the side. “It’s easy to do that here.”

Louis purses his lips. Harry wishes he knew what he could do to get rid of the little stress lines crinkled at the corners of Louis’s eyes. “Let’s hope,” Louis says, then shakes his head looking like he’s physically trying to shake off his quiet mood. When he catches Harry’s eye the next time, his blue eyes are sparkling, a bright smile forced onto his face. Harry lets him think he’s got away with it. 

“So tell me, Harold, how many new songs should I be expecting tonight?” Louis has slung his arm around Harry’s shoulder, and Harry ducks in close to Louis’s side. He holds the hat on his head with one hand, laughing as Louis drags him over to the bar to order some drinks. “The last time I saw you you’d had about five thousand new songs. Are we up to ten thousand yet? Twenty?”

“Shut up,” Harry says. His cheeks are burning, and he looks down at the floor, kicking the toe of his scuffed up boot against the bottom rung of a nearby barstool. “I like writing.”

“You should,” Louis says. He nods and adds in a firm voice. “You’re bloody brilliant at it.”

Harry’s chest swells with pride. Since Harry’s met him, Louis’s praise has meant more to Harry than anyone else’s. What Louis would think if Harry told him the reason he’s done so well is because in the back of his mind he’s always, always trying to make Louis proud. That Harry’s written so many songs, and so many words, and deep down he’s always known that every single thing he’s ever written was for Louis. 

Harry doesn’t get to tell him any of that though before the bartender comes over and Louis is shaking his hand, saying hello, and placing their order. 

It doesn’t matter much anyway, though. Harry thinks that somehow Louis already knows. 

*

Louis and Harry are sat at the bar after Harry’s set, drinking pints and making small talk with whoever comes up to chat with them. Harry’s used to the lazy way everyone talks around here, the slow almost meandering walk everyone has because nothing’s ever really a rush in this town. People tend to take things as they come and deal with them when they’re happening, rather than thinking and worrying about everything for weeks and months beforehand. 

It’s nice. People are nice and having so much space in the outdoors is even nicer. Harry didn’t realize just how tired he was of being cooped up all the time - being shuffled from hotel to venue to city after city he was never actually able to visit - until he finally decided to stop moving at all. He and Lou had talked about it forever, since that first tour when he’d gone to a barbecue at one of Tom’s friend’s houses in Nashville and then spent the night barefoot on a porch, playing guitar to the background music of crickets chirping and wind chimes blowing in the breeze. They’d talked about it and wondered about it and then one day Harry just said, _Fuck it_ , and did something about it. 

“You’ve certainly gone quiet,” Louis says, and it snaps Harry out of his thoughts. He turns his head to the side and finds Louis grinning at him easily. From this close Harry can see the golden stubble on his cheeks and chin. He can almost count every tiny crinkle at the corner of Louis’s eyes. 

“Just thinking,” Harry says. 

“Uh oh.” Louis leans back in his seat and stretches his arms up over his head. His t-shirt rides up, and Harry looks away. He takes a long sip from his pint and grins in thanks when the bartender puts two more full, frosted glasses down in front of them. “Harry Styles is thinking. _Deep_ thinking in the middle of the woods after singing all of his deepest, darkest thoughts to his very best mate in the world.” Louis tuts quietly, then reaches up to tug on a piece of Harry’s hair. “Sounds dangerous.”

“‘S’hardly the middle of the woods, you twat,” Harry says. He finishes his pint and starts in on the new one. His tongue is feeling thick and heavy in his mouth. The room is pleasantly spinny, and Harry feels his chest go tight, almost like it’s lighting up from the inside. 

He’s just _happy_. He’s so, so happy Louis is here. 

“‘M’just thinking about like...being here. You being here. And like. Us,” Harry says slowly. 

Louis stares at him for a second, before his blue eyes sparkle, and he laughs delightedly. Harry’s missed hearing Louis’s laugh right against his ear so much. He wants to bottle it up somehow and keep it all for himself, holding it close and taking it out whenever he’s sad or lonely or missing him. 

“That’s...deep, Harold.” Louis finishes his own pint and picks up the new one. “Very, very deep.”

Harry laughs quietly and drops his head. He fiddles with the hem of his shirt, picking at a loose thread and twisting it around the top of his finger. 

The bar is emptying out, people around them leaving with the scrape of wood chairs against the old, tile floor. Harry can hear people calling out their goodbyes. A few people pat him on the back as they’re making their way out, and Harry shakes hands and nods pleasantly until it’s just him and Louis left, the bartender cleaning up around them. 

“We should go soon,” Harry says. 

Louis nods. He gets up from his chair and stretches his back out. It’s gone quiet enough Harry can hear his spine pop and the crack of Louis’s jaw when he yawns, long and loud. 

Harry laughs quietly. “Tired?”

“A bit,” Louis says. He smiles at Harry sleepily and takes Harry’s hand, pulling him up from his chair. Harry stumbles to his feet because he’s tired too, now that he thinks about it. Louis has only been here one day, and Harry’s already felt every emotion ever known in a twenty four hour period. 

He’s happy, though. When it comes down to it Harry’s _happy_. Everything else - sleep included - can just fuck off for a bit. 

The music cuts out from the speakers, and it goes silent all around them. Louis giggles softly when he steps closer to Harry and yanks the hat off Harry’s head. “Hey!” Harry makes a feeble attempt to get his hat back, but Louis just dances away and sticks it on his own head instead. Louis laughs, and the brim of the hat falls down further over his eyes the more he runs. 

“You look ridiculous,” Harry says sternly. He crosses his arms and taps his foot. Louis is still running toward the door, and when he turns around, the hat is completely covering his forehead and eyebrows. He tips his head up to see, and Harry sighs and rolls his eyes at the bartender who looks like he’s ready to throw them out to the street. 

“That hat fits you like it fits a five year old,” Harry calls out. “In fact, I think it fits Pax better than you.”

Harry can hear Louis laughing, and he puts a few extra bills on the bartop and gives whoever is left a little wave goodbye. Harry’s guitar is already packed up, and he grabs the bag and slings it over his back, patting his pockets to check for his wallet and mobile and everything else that he tends to leave at the pub before he goes home most nights. It seems like he’s got everything tonight though. Maybe having Louis around is a good influence. 

“I’ll have you know that Pax and I have quite normal sized heads,” Louis says primly. “It’s not our fault you’ve got a skull the size of a watermelon.” 

Harry rolls his eyes and takes his hat back because he _needs_ it, thanks so much. Louis’s hair is sticking up in the back, already damp with sweat from being covered only for a few minutes. Harry _tsks_ quietly and pushes the door open, a gust of warm night air blowing against their faces as they make their way outside.

“Bloody hell,” Louis swears. He looks at Harry with wide eyes and blinks, and Harry thinks one more time, _I can’t believe you’re really here_. 

“It’s the middle of the night, Haz. Why is it still so fucking hot out?”

Harry laughs and pats Louis on the back, steering him towards his truck in the back car park. “Oh, Lou. Sweet, sweet Lou.” He whistles quietly and shoots him a wicked grin. “You’ve got no idea.”

*

Louis makes it three days before going to Lou’s house first thing in the morning and begging her to let him take the kids shopping for the day. Harry means to tell him that going out with Lux and Pax for an entire day is not really a deal, but Louis has been up with Harry every morning, helping him outside in the garden and puttering around every day while Harry cooks and does his canning for the winter. He looks like he needs some time out of the sun and shopping in an air conditioned mall for a bit. 

“We won’t be long,” Louis says, blinking wide blue eyes at them both. Lou stares at him, looks at both of her children that are close to vibrating out of their skin at the idea of going out with Louis for the entire day, then doubles over laughing. 

“Oh my god,” she wheezes. “He thinks he won’t be long.” When she stands back up her face is bright red and there are tears in her eyes. Louis rolls his eyes and grins while Lux sighs dramatically and wanders off to get her handbag. 

“Lou,” Harry says around a chuckle. 

“No, oh my god, Harry,” she says. “Harry, he thinks taking Lux and Pax shopping for the day is going to be a quick trip! That Lux won’t have him in every makeup shop and Pax won’t eat his way from one end of the mall to the other.”

“Hey!” Lux protests. Her blonde hair is pulled back from her face and held up in a high ponytail on the top of her head, and if anyone but Harry has noticed she’s got bright blue eyeshadow on - _eyeshadow! on Lux!_ \- then they’re not mentioning it. “Going out with me and Pax will be fun.

“It _will_ be fun,” Louis insists. 

Lou holds her hands up in surrender. “Hey, who am I to argue about a free day to sit around with my feet up and not have to pick up after anybody.” 

“Exactly,” Harry says happily. Louis looks thrilled to be taking the kids out and both Lux and Pax are jumping around in the hall, shoving their shoes on and getting ready for their big day. “And oh!” Harry snaps his fingers before reaching into his pocket for his wallet. “See if you can find me a new gardening hat, yeah? _Someone’s_ taken to stealing mine lately.”

“That hat is an atrocity and should be burned,” Louis says neatly averting his eyes when Harry stares at him pointedly. He doesn’t look like it now that he’s dressed in a pair of nice jeans and a bright blue button down shirt, but he’s been wearing Harry’s favorite green gardening hat every day, the brim wide and floppy and falling down over his eyes. “As a matter of fact, I burned it last night.”

“Lies,” Harry says. He tries to be discreet as he sidles closer to Lux and presses some bills into her hand. Louis spots him and rolls his eyes, huffing in Harry’s direction and shaking his head. “You love my hat.”

“I hate everything about your hat, including the head it goes on.”

“My head is fucking - erm, I mean bloody fabulous,” Harry says, then has to duck when Lou goes to smack him and Lux and Pax chase him out of the room on a chorus of _Ooooh, Uncle Harry, you were swearing!_

Harry’s crouched down next to Pax in the hallway making sure he’s got a bottle of water and that he doesn’t need to check into the loo one last time before he leaves when he overhears Lou and Louis talking in the kitchen, their heads bent together, his hand resting gently on her hip. 

“You’re all right though, yeah?” Lou is asking him. “Everything’s all right for you back home?” 

Harry’s chest goes tight because he can see the way the muscle flexes in Louis’s jaw, the quick flick of his eyes down at the ground before he looks back up. Harry thinks, _He’s lying. Whatever he says right now he’s lying_.

“I’m great, love,” Louis says, voice smooth and even. Harry doesn’t believe it. Hell, he’s fairly sure Lou doesn’t believe it either, but he also knows that Louis needs her to at least pretend to believe him. Lou smiles and brushes the hair over to the side of Louis’s face and lets it go. Harry’s happy Louis came here, he’s happy they’re around people who love Louis enough to give him all the time he needs to be happy again. 

Louis touches Lou’s belly, then tips his head down, resting his lips against the very top and talking quietly. “You be good to your mum in there, you hear me, Mister?”

“Oi, you and Harry always fecking talking to this baby like it’s a boy.” Lou pats Louis on the hair but then smacks his head until he stands up and kisses her cheek instead. “If this baby comes out a girl with a massive identity problem I’m going to wring both your necks, you got it?”

“That’s fine, love,” Louis says. He gives her belly one final pat and catches Harry’s eye when he spots him lingering outside of the doorway. Harry can’t help but smile back. “Harold and I are quite confident aren’t we, Hazza?”

“Quite,” Harry says firmly. Louis winks at him, and Harry goes into the kitchen, brushing the backs of his fingers against Louis’s before squeezing his hand gently. 

“Two fucking knobheads, the both of you,” Lou mutters. She throws her hands in the air and waddles over to the fridge to get a bottle of water. “A matched set of arseholes. Just what the world needs.”

Louis and Harry just laugh. 

*

“Soooooo,” Lou says, drawing the word out long and teasing. She’s laid beside Harry on the grass, a towel covering her belly to keep the sun off it and her face tipped up toward the sky. It’s hot out; burning summer sun shining down on Harry’s head. He’s got his beloved green gardening hat on and his shirt tied around his waist as he weeds out the back garden at Lou and Tom’s. 

“How are thing with you and Louuuuuuu?” she asks. Harry can barely believe she’s managed to wait this long to bring it up. He rolls his eyes and focusing on pulling the weeds. Weeds, weeds, weeds. They definitely need pulling. Yep. 

“Harry,” Lou says. Maybe if he ignores her she won’t start asking him questions he doesn’t have the answers to. It’s worth a shot, at least. He reaches into the dirt and pulls so hard he winds up with a handful of roots and three of Lou’s posies along with the weeds he was going for. Shit. 

“ _Harry_.” Lou digs her toes into Harry’s thigh and all right. Fine. Harry tosses the dirt and flowers and weeds back on the ground and turns around to face her. 

“What!”

“You and Louis,” she says calmly. She’s sat up now, legs vaguely crossed and her hands resting on top of her huge belly. She’s got her hair all piled up in a bun, and her skin is glowing bronze and pink. When she catches Harry’s eye she smiles gently and reaches out until he takes her hand. “You look like you’re having fun with him here, yeah?”

Harry rolls his eyes. “Of course I’m having fun. It’s _Louis_.”

“Mmhmm,” Lou says. Her eyes are twinkling. She’s such a witch. “Maybe a _lot_ of fun, if you know what I mean?” She wiggles her eyebrows and makes the rudest hand gestures Harry’s seen in a while. 

His mouth hangs open in shock. She’s a _mum_ for god’s sake. A _pregnant mum_. “You’re insane,” Harry says. He yanks a handful of grass from the ground and tosses it at her face. “When is Tom back? I think you’ve gone mad. Someone should let him know.”

“He’s back tomorrow, Harold. You know that. And don’t think I don’t know you’re changing the subject same way you’ve always done for the past hundred years.”

Harry hunkers down and starts aggressively weeding again, ignoring the sticks and rocks and leaves Lou is systematically throwing in his direction. “You love him,” Lou says simply. “You’re in _looooooove_.”

“Of course I love him, you bloody wanker,” Harry huffs. He yanks his gardening gloves off and throws his hands in the air. “I love you even when you’re terrible, and I can’t think of a bloody reason _why_. I love the kids too, and Tom and Zayn and Liam and--”

“That’s not what I meant, Harry,” Lou interrupts. If she was still teasing Harry would have no problem ignoring her. Maybe flip her off and go into the house to stick his head in the sink to cool down for a few seconds to forget this entire conversation is even happening. 

She’s not teasing though. Her voice is serious, and when he looks at her, her eyes are soft and watching him so gently. Harry thinks it’s damn inconvenient having friends who know you as well as Lou knows him. Secrets are a good thing to have sometimes. Not everyone needs to know everything all the time. 

“I always wondered, you know?” she says quietly. She shuffles over, and Harry meets her halfway, sitting close enough that their thighs touch. When she reaches down to take his hand, Harry laces their fingers together and squeezes tight. “I think everyone wondered for so long, but then as time went on it got more and more clear. You and Lou, you never…”

Harry shakes his head. “Nah. I mean. I wanted to, right in the beginning.” He laughs quietly, thinks of the pictures and interviews and the way he’d always looked so starstruck, so damn in love with Louis he’s not surprised everyone in the world thought there was something going on between them. “I just never...I never knew anyone like him ever, you know? I was…” Harry bites his lip. He picks at the frayed edges of his denim shorts. “Dazzled maybe. A little intimidated.”

“Completely arse over tits in love,” Lou adds. Harry thinks about it for a second. He tries to deny it, he does, but in the end he just shrugs. “Yeah. Yeah, probably.”

“So then why?” Lou shakes Harry’s hand where they’re curled together. “Why didn’t you ever--”

“There was just a lot going on then and we just...didn’t. Then it got to be too long and it. I don’t know.” Harry lifts his shoulder and rubs his cheek against sweaty skin. “It just wasn’t ever a good time.”

Lou doesn’t say anything to that. She lets Harry sit, thinking about all the things that he and Louis have been through. All the things that have happened. Harry can’t even imagine what his life would have been without Louis. He’s has always been such a big part of it, and the idea of Louis not having been around is incomprehensible. 

“Maybe not then,” Lou says gently. She rubs her thumb over the back of Harry’s hand. “But now is different, yeah? Maybe now is the right time.”

Harry shrugs again. He just - it’s been so long, and they’ve got their thing, he and Louis. They’re closer than anyone. Closer than family, and to risk that…

“I don’t know, Lou,” Harry says. He’s not saying it to brush her off, he just - he doesn’t know. “Maybe.”

She doesn’t say anything else after that, just sits next to him in the garden, quietly holding his hand. 

*

Harry’s got another show that night at the pub a bit earlier in the evening. He tells Louis that he can stay home and rest after taking this kids out shopping all day, but Louis declines. He looks at Harry like he’s mad, actually. 

“Why would I want to do that?”

“Dunno,” Harry says and shrugs. He’s just got out of the shower and is rubbing a towel over his head and shoulders. He’s completely starkers and it says a lot about their relationship that Louis hasn’t even spared a glance at Harry’s dick.

Too much time has definitely passed, Harry thinks. His dick is _amazing_. If Louis was at all interested he’d be looking for sure. 

“Thought you’d be too tired maybe or want a night in.” He combs his fingers through his damp hair and pulls it away from his face, wrapping it into a bun with a sparkly purple hair tie. Louis is dressed in a pair of cut off jeans shorts and a white vest, a backwards baseball cap on his head. He looks so much like his twenty year old self Harry is having trouble breathing. 

“I don’t though,” Louis says. Harry leans his hip on the bathroom counter and tries to catch Louis’s eye, but Louis is doing a damn good job at looking at the lights or the floor or anywhere that’s no where near Harry’s face. “I came here to see you, Haz. To hang out with you and do stuff. Not sleep in your crappy guest room while you go out and play shows for strangers.”

Harry let his mouth drop in pretend shock and twirls a towel around to try and snap Louis’s bum with it. Louis jumps out of the way and giggles as he runs down the hall and into the guest room. 

“My guest room is fantastic,” Harry shouts. The nerve of some people. 

“The bed is lumpy and it smells like old socks,” Louis calls back. 

“It does not! Niall stays in there all the time when he visits!”

“That’s what I’m saying, Harold. This room smells like a drunken Irishman.”

Harry shakes his head and laughs. He makes his way to the doorway and peers into the hall. “I’ll make sure to tell him you said that.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I’ll tell him myself when I ring him.” Louis has stuck his head out the door, and he pointedly stares at Harry’s face then drops his gaze down. “Now are you going to get dressed or are you planning on giving a pub an entirely different kind of show tonight?”

Harry feels his cheeks go pink, and he chews on his bottom lip and chuckles softly. At least Louis has _noticed_ his wang. It’s a bit of progress. 

“Maybe I’ll go put some pants on.”

“That’s probably a good idea,” Louis says, then disappears back into the guest room with a wink and a smirk. 

*

It’s quite possible that Harry is pissed. Like, not _badly_ pissed. He’s only had about...three, or four, _certainly_ no more than six pints. All right. _Maybe_ seven. He just - he performed a great show and played another new song that Louis was singing along to by the end. Every time he looked out into the crowd tonight he saw Louis watching him with a smile and clapping along, beaming at Harry like Harry was the most brilliant person he’s ever known. 

Louis was singing along to Harry’s songs - Harry’s own songs that he wrote himself! - and it’s too much. The overwhelming swell of pride he felt every time he caught Louis’s eye only to find him already watching Harry and beaming at him like he was proud or something. 

It’s just a lot, is all. 

Louis is leaned into him now at the bar, his shoulder tucked up under Harry’s arm, and his hair is tickling the bottom of Harry’s chin. Harry rests his head on top of Louis’s for a second, and Louis giggles and shoves him away, his hands warm where they press against Harry’s skin. 

“Harry, come on, let’s do another.”

Louis’s lips are pink and wet. They’ve been drinking some kind of fruity, sweet shots the bartender has been handing them all night, and everything about this: Louis listening to his songs and leaning against him and _being_ here is just...

It’s just _Louis_. When it comes around to it, everything about Harry’s life is just better when Louis is in it. 

“‘M so glad you’re here,” Harry says quietly. He tips his head down and touches his forehead to the crown of Louis’s head. Louis smells like Harry’s shampoo. It’s such a tiny, meaningless thing, but it makes everything light up inside him, his chest so full he can barely breathe. “Are you feeling better?” Harry asks. “Like, you were sad when you got here, but is it any better now, being here instead of there?”

Louis shifts so he’s facing Harry, one arm curled around Harry’s waist to keep him close. He’s got his face tipped up, and Harry can see how clear and bright his eyes are. Louis’s cheeks are flushed, and his hair is soft and falling over his forehead. Louis’s skin is so tanned and smooth Harry doesn’t even think about it when he reaches out to brush his thumb across Louis’s collarbone, down the slope of his shoulder and arm. 

Louis shivers and licks his lips. “It’s much better being here, yeah.”

Harry’s so happy to hear that. He’s so damn proud that Louis came to him for help and that Harry could be what Louis needed him to be. He knows whatever was bothering Louis isn’t fixed by any means, but the fact that maybe Harry was able to get him to forget it even for a few days means everything. 

“Good. I’m so glad. I just, I love you, you know?” Harry says. Louis blinks. His blue eyes are fixed on him, and Harry wants to stop talking before he says too much but it’s like once he starts there’s nothing around in his brain telling him to stop. 

“I mean, of course you know I love you. I love all of you guys. But with you it’s like, it’s different, you know?” Louis is still staring at him, and Harry thinks _shit_ , because maybe he’s wrong. Maybe he loves Louis the most, but Louis doesn’t love _Harry_ the most. The idea of that is truly awful. 

“I mean, unless it’s not different for you,” Harry babbles, and fuck, why can’t he stop talking? “Which is fine. I mean, if you love me like normal. Like the rest of the lads, I mean. Yay! Normal love,” he finishes weakly. 

Louis is still just standing there blinking at him, and, for the first time in so, so long, Harry is completely unsure of his footing where Louis is concerned. He’s thrown off, feels like he’s sixteen again, and is worried that he’s somehow cocked up talking to the coolest bloke he’s ever met. Harry spent weeks after meeting Louis convinced he could never be cool enough to be proper mates with him, sure Louis could see just how much of a dork Harry actually was. 

Harry was sixteen then, and he’s nearly thirty now. He’d have thought this feeling would have passed. 

“Lou, please say something,” Harry pleads quietly. He can vaguely hear the music around them in the pub. The bartop is lined with empty pints and sticky shot glasses, and when Louis reaches out and takes Harry’s hand, he doesn’t even realize what’s happening, not at first. 

“Hazza,” Louis says softly. Harry can hear him clear as a bell, even over everything else that’s going on around them. Louis touches the top of Harry’s hand, and Harry turns his palm over, his throat going tight when Louis lays his palm on top and lines their fingers up. Louis’s hand is smaller and more delicate, and looks so, so perfect against Harry’s skin. 

“I can’t believe you don’t know,” Louis murmurs. “I can’t believe--”

“Don’t know what?” Harry asks, and then he doesn’t say anything at all because Louis rocks up onto his toes and kisses him. 

It’s not the first time Louis has kissed him. Harry thinks he’s kissed everyone in the band more times than he can remember, especially in the beginning when they were together so much. The five of them were the only ones that could really understand what the rest were going through. It brought a certain kind of closeness, that near isolation in the middle of millions watching you. Harry and the rest of the lads kept to themselves and each other more out of self-preservation than anything else at times. 

So he’s kissed Louis, sure. This though. This isn’t like any kind of kiss with Louis that Harry ever remembers. 

This isn’t Harry the boy kissing Louis the boy who’s his friend and who he’s stuck in the middle of madness with. This isn’t them playing a game, passing the time on a tour bus, or kissing because there’s literally no one else in the world they trust as much as each other. 

This is grown up, successful Louis who lives in London and has his own night time show on the telly, kissing grown up Harry who lives on a plot of land bigger than his entire hometown with a sprawling garden that he has to weed every bloody day. 

This is Louis taking Harry’s face in his hands and pulling him down. It’s Louis licking into Harry’s mouth and Harry tasting the sugary sweet liquor on Louis’s tongue. Harry knows his mouth tastes the same, knows that’s he’s probably had too much drink tonight to be thinking clearly, but there’s never been a time he’s felt more sober. 

It’s Harry’s hands in Louis’s hair and Louis teeth on Harry’s lip. It’s Harry breathing in sharply through his nose because he doesn’t want to take his mouth off of Louis’s for anything, like the time spent breathing is a waste because it’s that many more seconds he could have spent kissing Louis. 

“Lou, Lou, fuck.” Harry kisses the corner of Louis’s mouth and the edge of his jaw. Louis smells sharp like cologne and sweet like sugar, and Harry wants to kiss him forever, wants to taste every inch of his skin. 

“Lou, I want--”

“I know,” Louis says, voice ripped open and broken. He looks at Harry, and his eyes are wild. Harry wants to lay him out and touch him until he convinces himself that this is real. “Harry, can we--”

“Home. Yes. I just--” Harry digs into his pocket and throws a wad of bills on the top of the bar. He grabs his guitar case and slings it over his back, nearly tripping over his feet as he yanks Louis away so quickly, dragging him through the tables and over to the front door. 

“Home. Now,” Harry says, and Louis just laughs and follows. 

 

*

The house is dark and warm. Harry had left the windows open but it’s been so hot out lately that everything feels hazy and thick, both inside and out. 

Harry leans his guitar case against the wall in the living room, and then he’s not even thinking, barely stopping to breathe before he crowds Louis against the door, caging him in with his arms and sinking his fingers deep into Louis’s hair. Louis grins up at him and bites his lip. His eyes are twinkling, and Harry watches his expression go dark. Louis rocks his hips up, the hard line of his cock bumping against Harry’s hip. 

“Jesus, Lou.”

Harry touches his fingers to Louis’s face. Louis’s eyebrow is arched, and Harry traces a fingertip over the sleek line of it. Louis has got sharp cheekbones and stubble on his cheeks and chin and his bottom lip is full and warm. Harry leans in and kisses him again, softly this time, his hands shaking when Louis opens right up to him, his mouth warm and wet. 

“So long,” Louis breathes into Harry’s mouth. Harry’s fingers go tight, gripping hard onto Louis’s shoulder, and everything about him feels hot and frantic. His skin itches, his hands tingle, and he wants to be touching all of Louis everywhere, right now. 

“Fuck, Harry, I’ve wanted you for--” Louis rocks up again, curling his hands around Harry’s waist and dragging him in, pressing their dicks together through their jeans and whining at the contact. “I’ve wanted you for so _fucking_ long.”

Harry wants to cry, everything inside him is so twisted up, every inch of him is so in love with Louis he can barely see. Harry can’t remember a time he didn’t love Louis. He wonders if there was ever a version of him out there in the world that wasn’t meant for Louis in one way or another and thinks that no, there probably never was. There couldn’t have been. They were made to love each other. Harry’s never been so certain of anything in his life. 

His fingers fumble when he pops the buttons on Louis’s jeans, but then Louis is tangling their fingers together as they each yank open belts and drag down flies. Harry finally gets his hand on the soft skin of Louis’s belly, the backs of his fingers trailing down, and Louis gasps and shivers, bites out, “Fuck, Harry, please,” as Harry touches him.

“Lou, can I?” Harry looks at him wildly. He feels frantic, desperate to touch him. 

“Whatever you want.” Louis’s cheeks are flushed pink and his bottom lip is red from where he’s biting it. He touches Harry’s face then, and Harry closes his eyes, leans against the palm of Louis’s hand, and tilts his head to kiss Louis’s wrist, lips resting just over the rope inked onto his skin. 

Louis’s dick is thick and warm, wet at the head, and his body quivers when Harry wraps his fingers around him and pulls him off slow and steady. Harry wants to touch him all over. He wants to get Louis off with his hand and then his mouth and then he wants to lay Louis out on his bed, strip him of his clothes, and lick every inch of his skin. 

Harry never realized how much he’s thought about this, how many of his fantasies consist of him and Louis just being together, hands and teeth and tongues. It’s been so long, and Harry tried to keep it pushed down so far. He thought letting himself think about it would ruin it somehow, that admitting to what he’s wanted but not been able to have for so long would somehow make what he already had harder to live with. That knowing just how much he really wanted Louis would make the amount he already had him seem less. 

It doesn’t though. All this does now is make Harry want him more. He wants Louis to touch him and kiss him and fuck him. He wants Louis to be in his bed and have his hands on Harry’s body. He wants Louis to pull his hair, drag his nails down Harry’s back. Harry leans in and bites at Louis’s throat, and Louis groans, presses his body up closer until there’s barely a breadth of space between them. 

“C’mere,” Louis says. His fingers are trembling when he touches Harry’s dick, and Harry can’t stop the whine that rips from his throat. His knees nearly buckle, and he opens his fingers to take Louis’s hand under his, both of their dicks pressed together, hot and wet, their fingers wanking them in a fast, shaky rhythm. 

Harry comes embarrassingly quickly, almost immediately after Louis bites his shoulder through the cotton of his t-shirt. He squeezes his eyes shut and drops his head into the curve of Louis’s shoulder and neck, panting wetly into Louis’s skin. 

“Lou, Lou, fuck, I need you to--”

“ _Harry_ ,” Louis gasps, just as Harry drags his nails lightly over the skin of Louis’s prick. Louis rocks in closer, shoving his dick harder into Harry’s hand, and he comes in thick pulses, Harry slowing down his wrist when Louis starts to whine against him. Louis’s chest rattles. He’s breathing fast, and Harry holds him close, kisses the side of his neck and the shell of his ear and wonders how many more times they can do this tonight. How many more times they can do this forever. 

“Hiiiiiii,” Harry says quietly. Louis laughs softly against Harry’s skin, and when he looks up his eyes are sparkling. He leans in and kisses Harry’s mouth, and Harry kisses him back, desperate for Louis to never stop touching him. 

“Bed, maybe?” Harry mumbles against Louis mouth. 

Louis nods and barely spares time to wipe his hand on Harry’s shirt before ducking out from under him and making his way to the stairs. His jeans are hanging down, and his shirt is all rucked up. When he turns around his hair is a mess, and there’s jizz all over the bottom of his shirt. 

He smiles at Harry though, and nods toward the staircase. 

Harry’s never seen anyone more beautiful ever.

“Are you coming?” Louis asks. 

Harry chuckles and wipes his hand off on his jeans. “Yeah,” he says, and meets Louis across the room with a kiss. “Let’s go.”

 

*

Harry wakes up the next morning to the sun shining brightly through his bedroom windows, and the sheets next to him are still warm from Louis sleeping in the bed with him all night. He reaches up and stretches his arms out over his head, hearing his back crack and running a hand through his hair. He swings his legs over the side and sits up, poking around on the floor until he finds his pants to pull on before going downstairs. 

Louis is in the kitchen, staring blankly into the open refrigerator. He’s got his glasses on, and his hair is all mussed up. He still looks sleepy. His clothes are wrinkled, and he looks like soft, like a sleepy little mouse. 

Harry wants to kiss him so badly he can’t think of anything else. 

“Morning,” Harry rasps instead. He leans in the doorway and crosses his ankles, arms folded over his chest. Louis turns quickly, clearly startled by Harry sneaking up on him. He smiles so warmly when he sees Harry there though that Harry’s heart thumps quickly in his chest. “All right?”

“Yeah. Hi,” Louis says quietly. He looks back into the fridge then closes the door, turning back to Harry almost shyly. “I mean, morning.”

“You need something?” Harry asks. He pushes off the wall and wanders into the kitchen, idly thinking of what he needs to make some muffins or a bread for breakfast. He knows Louis likes sugary things, and he’s got some of that sweet honey he’d picked up in town a few weeks back in the cupboard. “I can do up some pancakes fast, or some eggs I’m sure. Don’t really know what I’ve got to go with it, but _mmpfh_ \--”

Louis is kissing him, right here in the middle of his bright, sunny kitchen on a hot, summer morning. Louis’s hands are on Harry’s waist, his skin almost burning up from the feel of Louis’s hands on him. He kisses Harry soundly, licking into his mouth and whimpering quietly in his throat when Harry finally catches on and kisses him back, their tongues slick together, sweet and hot. 

When they finally break apart Louis’s face is flushed. His cheeks and throat and the tips of his ears are pink. He looks Harry in the eye then down and away and smiles, teeth settling into his bottom lip. 

Harry’s so, so in love with him. 

“Sorry, I just.” Louis shrugs and grins again. “I mean, this is ok, yeah?”

Harry can’t even begin to express how much better this is than ok. He’s got Louis here in his kitchen, kissing him first thing in the morning like he wants to be doing it always. Like he wants to keep kissing Harry and kissing him and kissing him almost as much as Harry wants to kiss him back. 

Harry chuckles, the laughter bubbling up from his chest and spilling out before he can even try and stop it. He takes Louis’s face in his hands and holds him still as he kisses him back, trying to tell Louis without words just how okay Harry is with this. How he’s so much more than ok.

Louis kisses him back, breath coming out on a happy sigh, and Harry has a feeling he knows. 

*

It’s a few days later, and Harry’s on the phone with Niall while Louis is over at Lou and Tom’s. Tom just got back the day before, and Louis hasn’t seen him in so long that when he told Harry he was going to head over there to catch up and play with the kids Harry figured he’d let Louis go by himself. Harry sees Tom all the time, and once the baby comes he’ll be over at the house constantly taking care of Lux and Pax while everyone gets settled. He’ll have plenty of time to catch up with Tom then.

Harry’s kind of at a loss though on what to do when Louis is out. He did the washing up as soon as Louis left, along with a load of laundry and a quick press of some of Louis’s nicer shirts he’s taken to hanging on the back of the rocking chair in Harry’s room. He’d made a pot of coffee and took out some steaks to grill for dinner, then chopped up a fast tomato chutney that’s now chilling in the fridge. 

He could take a nap, he thinks. Or maybe work on some songs. He winds up ringing Niall instead though, and from the way Niall’s voice is nearly bursting with joy when he picks up and hears Harry on the other end of the line Harry’s fairly sure he’s made the right choice. 

“It’s been ages, you fucking fuckhead,” Niall says cheerily. Harry laughs and straddles one of his kitchen chairs. Talking to Niall always makes Harry smile, and right now he’s beaming. 

“Yeah, well, I’ve been busy.”

“Uh huh. I’ve heard.”

Harry rolls his eyes fondly. His band has always been nothing more than a bunch of nosy wash women when it comes down to it. There’s never a thing that one of them does that the other four don’t have instant notice of no matter what they’re doing or what part of the planet they’re on at that moment. 

“I’m sure whatever you’ve heard is crap,” Harry says firmly.

Niall laughs, bright and open. “I’m not so sure about that.” He lets it drop after a second, asking Harry about a billion questions about Lou and when the baby is due and how Lux and Pax are doing with everything. He asks about Harry’s songs, if he’s written anything Niall hasn’t heard, and the truth is Harry’s been so busy with Louis around he’s not finished a new thing in ages. The songs he’s already got are fine and Harry’s not recorded anything in years. The things he writes are for himself to play whenever he wants, so it’s not a big deal if he takes some time off. 

The bottom line is that Louis isn’t going to be here forever and Harry knows that. If he wants to spend the time Louis is actually here just _being_ with him well, Harry thinks he’s earned it. 

“So, Nialler, I wanted to tell you something,” Harry says. Thinking of Louis makes him want to talk about Louis. It makes him want to tell Niall what’s been going on. He’s not breathed a word of it to anyone, and not saying it out loud has been driving Harry mad. 

Niall goes quiet. He’s been chewing on something on the other end of the phone throughout the whole conversation but he must hear something in Harry’s voice that has him swallowing audibly and rustling around, making himself more comfortable. 

“Ooh. This sounds important,” Niall teases. 

Harry huffs. “Piss offffffff.” Niall laughs again, but he falls quiet after a second, the silence between them long enough that Harry knows Niall’s waiting for whatever Harry’s got to tell him. 

“So, the thing is,” Harry starts. He opens his mouth to just say it, but when push comes to shove, somehow talking about actually getting to be with the person you’ve pretty much been in love with your entire adult life is hard to get out. “The thing of it is,” Harry continues, “me and Lou are--”

“Morons,” Niall interrupts. 

“No,” Harry says shortly. “We’re--”

“Idiots,” Niall says cheerfully.

“ _No_.” Harry grits his teeth and narrows his eyes. He certainly hopes Niall can feel his glare through the phone and across three oceans. “We’re--”

“Moronic idiots,” Niall says, and bloody fucking hell, Harry can _hear_ him grinning.

“Shagging!” Harry finally says and fuck. _Fuck_. He’d wanted to say it a lot better than that. Use some nice words and try to explain to Niall how much this means to Harry. He wanted Niall to _get_ it, for him to get where Harry is coming from and maybe tell him that he’s not an idiot. It would be _lovely_ for him to tell Harry he’s not going to get his heart broken when Louis has to eventually leave. 

He’s not telling Niall any of that though, and Niall’s not giving him any sort of advice, because the second Harry gets the words out Niall is moving his mouth away from the phone to whistle loudly into the distance. Harry hears more rustling and then the scrape of chair legs on a floor.

“Oi! Zayn!” Niall bellows. “Harry and Tommo are finally fucking!”

“Oh my god, _Zayn’s_ there?” Harry asks. He presses his fingertips to his temple and rubs his scalp gently. Maybe that pot of coffee is done now. Harry should probably add some whiskey. 

“Hiya, Harry,” Zayn calls out. 

“Hello, Harry,” Liam says, and Harry drops his head to the table and thunks it against the wood repeatedly. 

“Liam, too,” Niall says unnecessarily. “If it makes you feel any better though, we already knew,” he adds, laughter laced through his voice. 

Harry squints at the woodgrain on his tabletop. He rubs his thumb over a spot of jam he must have missed when he was cleaning. It’s the raspberry one Louis likes the best. Harry has to remember to can some more for Louis to take back with him when he goes. 

“How did you--”

“Liam told us, mate,” Niall says. His voice is finally calmer, and he sounds quieter, almost like he’s closed himself off in a room alone to finally talk to Harry like a human. “I think Lou called him a few days ago. Kind of let it slip. Soz.”

“No, that’s--” Harry chews on his bottom lip and thinks. He’s fine with that, obviously. Louis is a grown man, and he can tell things to whoever he wants. Harry just didn’t know--

“I didn’t know he told Liam anything about...us,” Harry says quietly. “I didn’t know it was a thing he was talking about.”

“He sounded pretty happy if what Liam said is anything to go by.” Niall sounds pensive, almost like he’s considering his words, and that alone makes Harry pause and wonder what he’s going to say next. “I don’t see Lou as often as Liam and Zayn do, but from what Li said Lou was pretty bad when he left here.”

“Yeah.” Harry nods. “I heard that, too.”

“I reckon anything that has him smiling and not looking like he’s a bomb about to go off at any minute is a good thing no matter what the reason, yeah?”

“Of course.” Harry sits up and pinches his bottom lip between his thumb and forefinger. He looks out the kitchen window and can see across their plots of land that Louis is out in Lou and Tom’s garden tossing a baseball back and forth with Pax. 

Lux is old enough that she remembers London, but Pax was born here and has never known anything other than baseball and American football and calling footie _soccer_. It makes something curl up tight in Harry’s chest thinking that so many things happen right here for him every day that Louis will never be a part of. Lux becoming a teenager and Pax growing up, the new baby being born. Harry and his songs and the fantasy dog he’s always got thoughts of getting to keep him company when his big, sprawling house is more empty than homey. 

“You know, me and the lads, we always thought there was something there anyway, right?” Niall says. Harry snaps out of his thoughts about empty houses and porch swings and babies being born and never knowing half of their uncles. “But it was never, like, you never said--”

“It wasn’t ever anything, no,” Harry says quietly. “It just. Too much not at the right time.”

“Yeah.” Niall is quiet for a second, then says, “I think it’s good.”

Harry doesn’t know why, but it feels like a ten thousand pound weight is being lifted off his chest. He squeezes his eyes closed, pinches the bridge of his nose and says, “Thanks. It’s. It’s been really good so far.”

“He needs someone to take care of him,” Niall says. Harry knows that, and he nods his head, says as much before Niall speaks again. “You know Lou better than anyone so you know. He’ll ask people for everything under the sun but it’s got to be shit he doesn’t give a crap about. Coffee and fancy sunglasses and those stupid overpriced, pointless fucking handkerchief things he’s got sticking out of his suits on his show every bloody night. When it’s something important though, something he really _needs_ , Louis would rather die than ask you for it. You’ve got to just - you’ve got to _give_ it to him, Hazza. Just give him help without making him ask for it.”

“I know,” Harry says. “I am.”

Niall whistles softly and says, “Well then I think everything will work out fine.”

*

Harry finds Louis on the porch that night, sitting on the patio bench and staring down at the mobile in his hand. He’s in a pair of Harry’s joggers and a white v-neck t-shirt with his hair still damp from the shower. He’s got some scotch in a glass, and when Harry opens the screen door he’s met with the quiet whisper of crickets chirping in the grass, the music of the summer breeze when it floats past the wind chimes. 

Louis looks up at him and smiles almost guiltily. He shoves the mobile in the pocket of his joggers and Harry thinks, _I love you_ and _I want to keep you_ and _I’ll do anything if it’ll make you stay_.

Harry wonders if Louis is going to say anything about whoever was texting him just now, but instead he says, “It’s so quiet out here,” voice almost in a whisper. “Peaceful.”

Harry lets it slide. He grins and sits down next to Louis, close enough that their thighs are touching. “It is. It’s one of the first things I thought was weird when I moved here,” he says. Louis looks at him and arches a brow in confusion. “It’s so quiet because there’s like, no one around, yeah? So you could yell your head off and it wouldn’t matter, it wouldn’t really bother anyone because your next neighbor’s not anywhere near you actually. But it’s quiet enough that you feel like, I don’t know, like yelling would be wrong somehow.” He shrugs a shoulder and reaches out to pluck Louis’s glass from his fingers, taking a small sip. “It’s just odd.”

Louis doesn’t say anything for a minute, just sits back and watches as Harry sips his drink, putting the empty glass down on the porch to the side of the bench. He’s got his arms crossed over his chest, and his skin is so tanned, even darker than when he got here from all the hours keeping Harry company while he’s done the gardening. He’s been playing with Lux and Pax too, and helping Tom out around the house getting things ready for the new baby. 

Lou is due any day - when Harry saw her this afternoon she looked about twenty-five months pregnant and ready to pop at any second. Harry wonders if Louis is staying long enough to meet the baby. He wonders if Louis has got a plan for when he’s going back home. He wonders if he’s ever going to work up the nerve to ask him anything about it. Right now Harry’s pretty sure the answer to that is no. 

“Why’d you stay?” Louis says, seemingly out of nowhere. “I mean, I get it in a way. It’s gorgeous here, almost perfect actually. But like, how did you decide?”

Harry gets it. He understands what Louis is asking. It’s not _why’d you stay?_ as much as it’s _why did you leave everything else?_

“I loved being in the band. I loved being a part of One Direction, and I love that that’s going to be like, the main part of who I am forever,” Harry says. He looks down at his hands. He’s in an old black t-shirt, and he pulls at a loose thread hanging from the bottom. “But after a while it felt like...like I needed to be me, too. That being that was _amazing_ and perfect and great, but it needed to like, stay as its own thing. I needed to move on to become something else.”

“I came here with Lou and Tom a bunch of times,” Harry says quietly. “They’ve got friends nearby and Lou had always talked about raising Lux and whatever other babies they were going to have somewhere away from London, and one day I just…” Harry trails off, tries to explain the almost otherworldly calm that settled over him that day when he finally realized it was time to stop wandering. 

“I just didn’t want to leave,” Harry finishes. He looks back at Louis and shrugs, smiling gently. A piece of hair falls out from the bun he’d tied it in after his shower, and Louis reaches out and tucks it behind Harry’s ear. “I didn’t want to leave, so one day I just...didn’t.”

They’re quiet for a second after that, nothing but the soft sounds of the night around them. Louis looks like he’s deep in thought, and when he starts to talk his voice is so, so soft. “I thought I was doing that too,” he says. He’s watching Harry intently, blue eyes sharp and clear and focused on Harry’s face. “The moving on bit. I thought I had that with the show and all, but people…” Louis looks down and shakes his head sharply. “It’s like no one will _let_ me, yeah? Like no matter what I do, being that other Louis - the funny, loud one who did the pranks and pulled faces in photos - it’s like he’s always going to come first.”

“Not if you don’t let it,” Harry says, voice strong and firm. Louis looks back up and Harry reaches out and takes Louis’ hand in his. “ _You_ know that you’re doing an amazing job on your show, right? So like...screw everyone else.” He smiles a little and Louis even manages a smile back. “Go out and do your show and be better than them. Let them ask their questions but then ask them _better_ ones. You’re just--” He shakes his head and squeezes Louis’ fingers tight. “You were always the best one of us, you know? The strongest. Still are, probably.”

It’s quiet. Everything around them is almost stopped. The air and the chimes and the crickets are chirping even softer than the were before. Harry can hear his heart beating, can feel the quick thump of it in his chest. 

Louis takes his hand and curls their fingers together, his hand small to Harry’s large. “God, Harry,” he whispers, as quiet as a secret. “Do you know how much I love you?”

“I love you, too,” Harry says simply, because there’s never been anything more simple than that one truth.

He kisses Louis then, touching Louis’s face and tilting his head to the side so Harry can lick into his mouth. He kisses Louis like he’s wanted to forever, like he’s tried to every time Louis has kissed him since he’s been here, and he doesn’t hold anything back. 

The bench is old but sturdy, and Harry swings his leg over until he’s straddling Louis’s lap. Louis’s hands curl around Harry’s hips, and he smiles against his lips. He licks into Harry’s mouth, kisses him and kisses him and kisses him under the twinkle of stars and the soft sounds of home around them.

*

Harry wakes in the morning with the covers twisted around his waist and Louis talking quietly to someone in the hall just outside the bedroom. Harry stretches and yawns. His back pops, and he rubs a hand over his face, knuckling the sleep from his eyes. It’s cloudy out, looks like there’s going to be some rain later, and Harry figures he should go out before breakfast and take in the lawn chairs and anything else that might get ruined in a passing storm. 

He’s trying not to listen to what Louis is saying, but it’s hard. The rest of the house is silent and Louis is right there, his voice low but loud enough for Harry to hear at least his end of the conversation. 

“No, I know. Of course.” He pauses, and Harry can hear him sigh. He pictures Louis rubbing his forehead, pinching the bridge of his nose, and squeezing his eyes closed. “No, I get that the RAJARs have to factor in somehow, Li, I just-- he can’t fill in for me much longer then is what you’re saying, correct?” Another beat of a pause and then, “Stop dicking around Liam and tell me how long.”

Harry’s chest goes tight. He’d known this was coming, he did, but to hear it out loud, for the words to actually be out and floating around in the air is harder than Harry had imagined it would be. 

He turns his head and buries his face in the pillow. Louis is finishing up, telling Liam goodbye and that he’ll ring him soon, and Harry can’t see him right now. He just needs a second before he looks up and into Louis’s face. 

Louis comes into the room, and Harry can hear when he puts his mobile down on the bureau. He pretends to be sleeping, even adds in a snuffling little grunt like snore, but Louis comes over anyway, sits on the edge of the bed and lays his hand on the back of Harry’s calf. 

“I know you’re awake,” Louis says. “You’ve always been the most shit liar.”

Harry grins despite himself. “‘M’not lying, I’m sleeping.”

“You’re pretending to sleep so you don’t have to talk to me,” Louis says gently. Harry can feel Louis’s fingers in his hair, pushing it away from his face and over to the side. He blinks open an eye, and Louis is right there, scruffy and mussed up from sleep. He’s wearing his glasses and smiling, but it’s not a real one; it’s one he’s trying to put on just for Harry. 

“You heard me talking to Liam then?”

Harry thinks about lying. He stares at Louis for another second before turning his face back into the pillow and nodding. This time Louis lets him look away. “Yeah.”

“It’s not right now, Haz. I mean, it’s--”

“It’s soon though, yeah?” Harry asks. He doesn’t know why he’s asking when he already knows the answer, but maybe hearing Louis say it will finally convince Harry’s brain what he’s known all along: that Louis being here is amazing, but it’s never been something that Harry was going to have forever. Louis was never going to be his to keep.

Louis bites his lip and looks away when Harry sits up to look him in the eyes. He nods though. A short, fast snap of his head that washes away everything Harry’s dreamed about in one, quick motion. 

Harry takes a deep breath. “All right,” he says. He reaches out and takes Louis’s hand. Louis looks down at their fingers curled together. Harry rubs his thumb over the back of Louis’s palm and pulls him closer, dragging Louis back under the covers and slotting their legs together. Louis’s head is next to Harry’s on the pillow, and Harry leans in, touches his mouth to Louis’s so lightly he can barely feel the heat from Louis’s mouth. 

“It’s not today though, right?” Harry asks. He kisses the corner of Louis’s mouth, the sharp curve of his jaw. Louis shakes his head, and Harry gently takes Louis’s glasses off and puts them on the side table. He wraps his arm around Louis’s back and draws him in closer. 

“No,” Louis whispers. “Not today.”

Louis touches Harry’s hair again, pushes it away from his face and tucks it behind his ear. Harry can hear rain pattering on the windows, and he remembers he’d wanted to go out and rescue the furniture. The idea of getting out of bed now is so preposterous he nearly laughs. He can buy new furniture. Hell, he can buy a new anything. He can’t get this moment with Louis back though, no matter how hard he tries. Harry’s not going to give that up for anything. 

Louis’s eyes are bright blue and sparkling when he looks at Harry. Harry wants Louis to touch him and keep touching him forever. He wants to spend every morning in bed just like this. He listens to the rain on the windows and the slow, shaky breath Louis exhales just before he leans in and kisses him, teeth biting down gently on Harry’s lip. 

Harry feels slow and sluggish, like his limbs are too heavy to lift off the bed. Louis leans over him and kisses his mouth, touches his fingers to Harry’s face and throat. He traces the lines of Harry’s tattoo over his heart, down his chest and rests his hand on Harry’s waist. 

Harry wants to give everything to Louis. He wants to feel him all over. He blinks up, stares into Louis’s eyes, and everything he wants must be so clear, written so plainly on his face because he can’t stop thinking it, can’t stop wanting every single thing with every inch of his skin. 

“Lou, I want to--”

“Ok, yeah,” Louis says. He dips his head and bites at Harry’s mouth, Harry’s hands coming around to rest on the sharp planes of his shoulderblades. Harry rocks his hips up. His dick is already hard, and he bumps it into Louis’s hip. Louis hisses, squeezes his eyes shut, and rests his head against Harry’s shoulder. 

“If you want this to happen at all you’d better stop doing that,” Louis teases. 

Harry laughs quietly, shifting over to rustle around in his bedside table for a condom and some lube. He digs it out and presses them both into Louis’s hand. Thankfully Louis doesn’t tease him, or waste any time before flipping open the cap and getting his fingers slick and wet. 

He opens Harry slowly, the blunt press of one fingertip then another and then a third when Harry starts to rock against him, desperate and greedy for everything Louis has to give. Harry’s got his leg pulled up, angles it to the side so Louis can fuck into him better with his fingers, and it’s too much almost. It’s everything Harry’s ever thought about, every single thing he’s ever wanted. 

“Please,” Harry begs. Louis groans and takes his hand away to tear open the condom. Harry’s got his head tilted to the side, mouth breathing damp and wet onto the pillow, but then Louis is crawling between his thighs, pushing Harry’s leg up and over. He taps Harry on the knee, his fingertips digging into the meat of Harry’s thigh. 

“Harry,” Louis gasps as he presses against him. “Babe, look at me.”

Harry looks up, mouth open on a gasp as Louis slowly pushes inside. It burns at first, the stretch more than Harry was expecting, but when Louis goes to stop Harry grabs him by the wrist and holds him there, bearing down slowly until he can fuck himself back onto Louis’s cock. 

“Don’t stop,” Harry pants. Louis moves back an inch, then shoves back in, dicking into Harry harder each time. Harry bites his lip and squeezes his eyes shut. It’s too much, watching Louis with his skin going pink, his mouth open and wet, body shaking as he fucks into Harry with long, deep thrusts. 

Louis groans, a low, broken sound ripped from the back of his throat, and Harry loves him. He just loves him, doesn’t ever want him to leave. 

Harry’s orgasm hits him suddenly, breath punching out of his chest as he shakes and comes, the heel of one foot digging into Louis’s calf. Louis doesn’t stop, just keeps going, fucking him harder, deeper, pushing Harry back to the edge again before he goes still and comes, head dropped and arms curled tight around Harry’s back like he doesn’t ever want to let him go. 

It should be enough. Harry can feel as Louis goes soft and slips out. He touches Louis’s face and pushes his hair back, kissing his temple and the thin skin at the corner of his eye. Harry should feel better now that he’s had this, now that he knows what it’s like to have Louis inside him, but all it does is make him need Louis more. His skin feels too tight, his heart still racing too fast. Harry’s hands are shaking when he curls his fingers around Louis’s shoulder and pulls him down. He needs Louis closer, wants to feel him on every inch of his skin. 

Louis touches Harry with soothing hands. He’s so gentle Harry knows he’s meant to calm down, but he’s desperate, greedy almost to have Louis again, right now. 

“Lou,” Harry gasps. He buries his face against Louis’s shoulder and squeezes his eyes shut. He can feel Louis’s lips on his hair, his hands on Harry’s waist. “Lou, I need--”

“Shh, baby,” Louis whispers. “I’ve got you.”

He touches Harry’s belly, drags the tips of his fingers over Harry’s dick and squeezes him gently. Harry’s already hard again. He barely feels like he’s come at all. He curls in closer, rutting up against him, fucking into Louis’s hand while Louis kisses his hair and holds him close, taking him apart again and again and again. 

*

Harry’s mobile rings two nights later, a long while after he and Louis have gone to bed. It had been a quiet night. They’d done nothing more than lie on the sofa and watch an old film on the telly, but something had been worrying Harry all night because something was wrong with Louis. Something was going on that he wasn’t telling Harry. Harry had tried as hard as he could to cajole it out of him, but Louis had kept quiet, shaking his head and changing the subject whenever Harry asked him if everything was all right. 

They’d gone to bed early after that, and it’s so late now Harry can barely see the moon shining through the bedroom window. He’d been dead asleep when the ringing started, so he flails around a bit, smacking Louis in the head and kicking him in the shin when he pats around for his mobile. 

“Harry!” Louis yelps. He’s laughing softly though, helping Harry search for the ringing. 

“Sorry, sorry, I just--” Harry finally finds it, and he swipes the screen with a shaky thumb. He’s being a complete twat, he knows that, but the only reason someone would be ringing him this late would be--

“Harry, mate, it’s me,” Tom says calmly. 

Harry looks at Louis with his eyes bulging. Louis is staring at him right back, mouth open and a shocked expression on his face.

“Hazza, is that--”

“Are you ready?” Harry asks. Tom chuckles, and Harry shakes his head. “I mean, is the baby--”

“We’re already at the hospital waiting for the doctor,” Tom says. “Lux and Pax are out in the waiting room. Are either of you two free to head down and--”

“We’re right there,” Harry babbles. “I mean we’ll _be_ right there. We’re leaving. My house. I mean--”

“I think he’s got it, love,” Louis says quietly. He takes the phone from Harry’s hand and tells Tom they’ll be there as soon as they can. It’s quiet for a second after that, and all Harry can think is, _he made it. Louis is going to get to meet the baby_.

“Hey, Hazza, come on.” He touches Harry’s wrist and wraps his fingers around it lightly. Louis is smiling at him, gentle but sad. Harry still can’t shake the idea that something’s wrong, that there’s something Louis isn’t telling him. He doesn’t want to think about it now, though. He’ll have plenty of time to think about it later, he’s sure. Now he’s got a baby to meet. 

*

The ride to the hospital is quick because it’s late enough that there’s barely another car on the road with them. Harry leaves the windows of the truck open, the thick, summer air blowing through softly around them. 

Louis is quiet, hands folded neatly in his lap, and every time Harry looks over at him Louis smiles, but it never once reaches his eyes. 

They get to the hospital in half the time it should take, and Harry parks the truck diagonally across three spaces. “Ready, Uncle Lou?” he asks, pocketing his keys and all but leaping out the door. 

Louis grins at him brightly and shakes his head with a chuckle. “Lead the way, Uncle Harry.”

They cross the car park quickly and over to the maternity ward with only a few minor missteps. Harry’s only been here one other time when Pax was born, and that was five bloody years ago. Louis trails after him laughing softly every time Harry makes a wrong turn until a kind looking nurse takes pity on them and takes Harry by the shoulders, spinning him around and bodily pointing him in the right direction. 

It doesn’t seem like many other babies are being born, if any at all, right now, because when they turn the corner the only two people in the entire waiting room are Lux and Pax sitting together on a sofa. Pax’s small head is leaned in close against his sister’s chest, and they must hear Harry and Louis’s footsteps because they’ve barely cleared the doorway when they both look over, bright smiles stretching across their faces. 

“Uncle Harry!” Pax shouts. “Uncle Lou!”

“Pax my boy, you keeping everything under control over here?” Harry asks. He reaches behind him for Louis’s hand, something bright and hot bursting in his chest when Louis takes Harry’s fingers and squeezes gently. Harry sits down on the sofa next to Lux and kisses the top of her head. Louis drops Harry’s hand to go to the other side, plucking Pax up and settling him on his lap. 

“Dad came out a little bit ago,” Lux says, eyes sparkling with excitement. “He said the baby’s going to be here any minute.”

“Is that right?” Harry asks. He brushes the wispy fringe away from her face. She might be thirteen thinking she’s thirty, but right now she’s just a baby, she’s Harry’s favorite girl, and he remembers her when she was as young as Pax, even smaller. His throat goes tight thinking about getting to have another one, another baby of Lou and Tom’s to grow up with. Harry doesn’t know what he’s done to deserve all the love he’s got in his life. 

“Looks like we got here just in time then,” Louis says. He catches Harry’s eye over the kids and winks. 

“Uncle Lou, I was talking to dad about when we were all playing baseball together the other day, and he said after mum’s home with the new baby maybe we can all play again,” Pax says excitedly. “It’s supposed to be real nice out next week. You can come back over and we’ll play some more, ok?”

If Harry hadn’t been looking for it he probably wouldn’t have noticed, but it’s there again. The almost sad look on Louis’s face. The tiny flicker of what looks like regret when it flashes in his eyes. 

Louis looks away from Harry and beams down at Pax. “We’ll have to figure something out for sure then,” he says, never breaking his smile. Harry looks away and buries his face in Lux’s hair. He can feel Louis watching him, but he can’t bring himself to look back up. 

*

Ryder Reed Atkin is born at half six on a hot, Thursday morning in the dead of summer. Harry and Louis are watching some random news program on the telly, Pax half asleep on Louis’s shoulder when Tom bursts into the waiting room, hair flying out behind him and a wide smile lighting up his face. 

“It’s a boy,” he shouts. Pax and Lux run over to hug their dad, who’s grinning at Harry over their heads with a twinkle in his eye. “Lou says you’re damn lucky you were right after calling him a he for the past nine months.”

Harry smiles back. He rubs a hand over his face and blows out a relieved breath as if he were the one who just birthed a child. “Tell her never to doubt me again,” he says. From beside him Louis laughs, his hand settling low on Harry’s back. 

The kids come over to give Harry and Louis hugs, and then Tom is bustling them off to go meet their new baby brother. The room goes from loud to quiet so quickly Harry’s ears start to ring. 

Louis is still standing next to him, his hand a steady presence on Harry’s back, and Harry gives himself a second. He lets himself enjoy this moment, lets him appreciate that Louis was here for it. That he’ll get to meet the baby and see Lou again before he has to go. 

“When are you leaving?” Harry whispers. His throat has gone dry. 

He can feel Louis stiffen beside him, but Harry never looks over. He just keeps standing where he is, staring straight ahead, focusing on the flickering scenes on the telly. If he looks at Louis right now his heart will start to break, and it’ll never ever stop.

“This weekend,” Louis says softly. Harry closes his eyes. “Day after next.”

It’s like every last shred of hope Harry had been futilely holding onto falls out of his grasp, spilling like grains of sand onto the floor. 

“Ok,” Harry says, breath coming out of him in a whoosh. He leans into Louis’s side and lets his head fall onto Louis’s shoulder. Louis kisses his hair and Harry stays there. He doesn’t want to move from this spot. 

“Ok,” he says again.

*

Lou comes home with the baby late the next afternoon, Ryder’s tiny body swaddled in the biggest, fluffiest pale blue blanket Harry’s ever seen. Harry’s waiting at the house with Louis and the kids, cooking up some sauce to freeze and grilling up some chicken and veggies. Lux has been helping Pax make a welcome home sign all day, a large white poster board Pax has traced his handprint on about a hundred times. 

Louis has been helping them. He’s got blue paint smeared on his face, a stripe on his cheekbone, and a spot by his forehead. Harry turns around and grins when he hears the door open, and then the kids are jumping up, rushing over to see the baby and kiss Lou and Tom hello. 

Louis stays in his seat watching them, a sad smile on his face. 

“At least it’s not tomorrow,” Harry says to him gently. Louis looks up, and the corner of his mouth twitches. He’d rung Liam when they got home from the hospital the other night and was able to move his flight from early Saturday to late Sunday instead. It was the best he could do.

“Yeah,” Louis says thickly. 

It doesn’t take long to get the baby settled. He’s so tiny Lou just tucks him into the bright green swing Harry remembers from when Pax was just a baby and and sets him up in the corner of the room. Lux is on the sofa at the baby’s side and Pax is on the floor by his feet. They sit there staring at him in awe. Lou rolls her eyes a little, but Harry can see she’s tearing up. It makes his own eyes water. 

“Oi,” she says, voice thick and choked. She smacks Harry on the back of the head, and Harry yelps. “Quit the waterworks, all right? I’m still all hormonal. I’ll be weeping all over your shirt for the rest of the night.”

“They just look so sweet,” Harry says. As if on cue Lux leans over and touches her lips to the baby’s tiny head. Harry could die right now and he’d be happy. 

“ _Wow_ ,” Louis says and whistles. “Does she want a pony? Because I’ll buy her one.”

Harry laughs and leans into Louis when he curls his arm around Harry’s waist. He rests his head on Louis’s shoulder, and it’s nice, perfect even. Harry bites his lip and looks away. 

“Well I don’t know about buying her a pony, but you could come out to the cooler with me and have a beer,” Tom says to Louis. Louis laughs and gives Harry’s waist a squeeze, patting his hip before following Tom outside. 

The door bangs shut behind them and Lou sits down, practically falling into one of the kitchen chairs and sticking her feet up on the one across from her. Harry feels terrible. She’s just given _birth_ \- she’s produced an entire _human_ \- and Harry’s not done anything for her like rub her feet or offer her a glass of tea. What is wrong with him?

“Shit, are you all right?” Harry babbles. He fusses with her hair, patting it down until she bats his hands away, muttering swear words and shoving him away from her. “Do you need anything? Some food or a drink or--”

“Ugh, stop _touching_ me, Harry, god,” Lou hisses. She pretends to glare at him, but he can tell she’s only kidding. At least he _hopes_ she’s only kidding. “I’ve just had a baby. All I need is five seconds of peace, all right?”

Harry bites his lip and sits down. He folds his hands together on the table and stares at her expectantly. 

Lou rolls her eyes and kicks at him with her foot. “You’re such a lemon.”

“Hey,” Harry says and frowns. 

Lou shakes her head and laughs quietly. She looks toward the door, watching where Louis and Tom are leaning against the porch rail and talking. When she looks back at Harry her eyes are twinkling. “Soooooo,” she says, fluttering her eyelashes and sighing dramatically. “How’s things with you and Lou?”

Harry twists his fingers together and stares down at the table. It’s just - this is a happy day. Everyone’s happy. Harry doesn’t want to be the one to bring Lou down or start whining about his own problems. “Fine,” he says simply. He looks up and pastes on the brightest smile he can. “Great.”

“Liar,” Lou says and kicks him again. “What’s wrong?”

Harry looks out the door, and Louis is just looking his way, a tiny smile playing at the corners of his mouth. He catches Harry’s gaze and holds it, tilts his bottle in Harry’s direction in a silent toast, and Harry grins and looks away. His chest is tight, and he feels like he could put his head down and cry at any minute. God, he’s going to miss him so much. 

“He’s leaving,” Harry mumbles into his arms. “He flies back on Sunday.”

Harry hears Lou rustling around and then there’s a hand on the back of his neck, rubbing gently. Harry’s the worst friend ever. Here Lou is just after giving birth for god’s sake and she’s comforting Harry. Comforting _him_. He is officially the worst human on the planet. 

“Aww, love,” Lou says softly. “Maybe he’ll stay.”

Harry shakes his head. He keeps his face buried. He doesn’t want to look up and see her pity. “He can’t. There’s the show and the RAJARs and just.” He shrugs one shoulder and peeks his eyes up a little bit. “This isn’t his home, you know? He was never meant to stay.”

Lou is watching him, and Harry holds out hope, one last flicker that maybe he’s wrong. Maybe Lou has a list of reasons why Louis should stay. 

She doesn’t say anything though, just smiles at Harry sadly and keeps patting his hair. Harry puts his head back down and sighs because not having anything to say sometimes is answer enough. 

*

It’s late when Harry finishes wiping down Lou and Tom’s kitchen counter. The exhausted couple are sat on the sofa watching the telly. Lou put Ryder down in his cradle not that long ago, and Harry tells them quietly he’s going to find Louis and give the baby a kiss before going home. Tom nods and gives Harry a quiet wave, Lou’s eyes already slipping closed with her head on Tom’s shoulder. 

Louis had gone off earlier to help tuck in Pax and spend some time with Lux, but he hasn’t seen him since. Harry checks out on the porch, the bathroom, and both of the kids’ rooms, but he can’t find Louis anywhere. He pokes his head into the basement, but all the lights are out and it doesn’t seem like anyone’s been down there all day. The hall creaks under Harry’s boots as he creeps around looking, and when he finds him he stops in his tracks, frozen at the picture Louis makes standing right in front of him.

Louis is in the baby’s room, stood in front of the window with the moonlight gleaming through the curtains. He’s got the baby cradled against his chest, the hand he’s got resting on Ryder’s back almost as large as his tiny, newborn body. 

Louis doesn’t know Harry’s there. He’s looking out the window rocking back and forth slowly. Harry can’t seem to make his feet move. He stands in the doorway watching the two of them, heart clenching tight when Louis tips his head down and kisses the baby on the crown of his head, his lips lingering for a beat too long before he looks back up and sniffles. 

Harry chokes back a breath because it’s too much, all of it is too much at once. His heart is truly breaking, splitting in two right in his chest, and Louis must hear him finally because he turns around, still cradling the baby. When he looks up at Harry his eyes are wet. 

“I don’t want to go back,” Louis says. Harry’s heart stops then picks back up, thumping twice as fast. “I don’t - I want this. I want to watch him grow up. I want to be with you. Harry, I just--”

“Lou,” Harry whispers. He crosses the room and curls his arms around Louis’s back, pulling both him and Ryder in close. Harry kisses Louis’s hair, then strokes his thumb over the tiny curve of Ryder’s cheek. “Babe.”

“Remember what you said that night?” Louis asks, almost desperately. He looks up at Harry and his eyes are wild. Harry can see the moon reflected back at him in Louis’s piercing blue gaze. “How you were here and one day you just wanted to stay? That one day you realized you didn’t want to leave so you just didn’t?”

Harry feels hope blooming warm in his chest. He tries to keep from smiling, because he doesn’t want Louis to do anything he doesn’t want to do. He doesn’t want him to do anything for just Harry. If this would make Louis happy too though - if this is something he wants - there’s no way in this universe or any other that Harry’s going to say no. 

“Yeah,” Harry says thickly. He kisses Louis’s cheek and his nose and the corner of his mouth. “I remember.”

“I think,” Louis says, then breaks off into a chuckle when the baby stirs in his arms. He pats the baby’s back, and when he looks back up at Harry he’s beaming, eyes bright and happy. 

Harry never understood about something being so perfect that it hurts your chest. He never understood how amazing and terrifying it can be when you’re faced with the chance to get every single thing you’ve ever wanted. He looks at Louis and he can see it. He can see everything. Every single thing he’s ever wanted right here, standing in front of him.

“I think that’s happening to me right now,” Louis says, voice bubbling over. “I want to stay right here,” he says again, voice stronger this time. He looks so sure, so certain. “I don’t want to leave.”

Harry’s never let himself hope for this, but now that it’s here he’s going to take it. He’s going to grab it with both hands and he’s never going to let go.

“Then don’t,” he says, and when he kisses Louis again he knows Louis is going to stay.

*

_**Epilogue**_

 

“I want to play outside with Uncle Louis!”

“No, _I_ want to!” 

Harry looks back and forth between Lux and Pax and grimaces. They’re in the living room surrounded by piles of Ryder’s baby toys, hands on their hips and glaring at each other. Lux is bigger, but Pax keeps his chin tilted up and never backs down. Harry’s got to admire that. 

“You get to play with him _all the time_ ,” Lux shouts. She stomps her foot and looks up at Harry imploringly. “It’s _true_. They’re always out there playing stupid _baseball_.”

“It doesn’t even count though,” Pax whines. He looks from Harry to Louis and back again. “Uncle Lou is _awful_ at baseball, Uncle Harry,” he says in the absolute worst whisper Harry’s ever heard.

Louis gasps. Harry manages to cover his mouth before he chuckles into the palm of his hand. He doesn’t do that good of a job of it though if the way Louis stomps on Harry’s foot and pretends to glare at him is any indication. 

“I’m _learning_ ,” Louis says primly. He plucks Ryder from Harry’s arms and buries his face in the baby’s belly. “It’s a _learning process_.”

Ryder giggles in delight and grabs fistfuls of Louis’s hair when Louis blows raspberries against his tummy. When Louis looks back up his smile is so bright Harry has no choice but to smile helplessly back. 

“Right, Ry Man?” Louis says to the baby’s chubby face. Ryder giggles some more, and Louis curls him in close to his chest, kissing the top of his head. “I figure by the time this one is, oh, I don’t know, five or six I should be all right.”

“Maybe make than nine or ten,” Lux mumbles. When Louis gapes at her with an open mouth she makes an apologetic face. “Sorry Uncle Lou but Pax is right. You’re pretty awful.”

“Bloody American sport,” Louis mutters. He walks around, gently kicking Ryder’s toys into a pile in the middle of the room, bouncing the baby around in his arms. “You should be lucky I’m playing it at all.”

“Well, you do live here now, Lou,” Harry says. “It’s time for you to get with the American customs, yeah?”

Harry’s chest still goes tight when he thinks about it, about Louis being here all the time. Louis living with him. Finally able to be together after all this time. It took six months' worth of travelling back and forth to set up something on location that Louis could do from here for his show. Harry knew Louis wanted to be here, he did, but every time Louis went back to London to try and settle things up, Harry was half convinced he was never going to see him again. 

The day Louis finally came home to him for good - for _good_ good - well. Harry’s not too proud to admit that he had a bit of a cry on Louis’ shoulder that afternoon. All things considered he thinks he’s earned it. After all, it’s not every day you’re able to have every single thing you’ve ever dreamed of. Harry knows how lucky he is - how lucky they both are. 

“Oi, are you still all yapping about who’s going to play outside with Louis?” Lou asks. She’s all dressed up, hair done in a fancy knot on her head and shiny black high heeled shoes. Tom comes from the bedroom a second behind her, fixing his shirt and pulling his hair back into a ponytail. 

“You’re sure the three of them aren’t going to drive you mad?” Tom asks. 

“Ssh, don’t ask them that,” Lou says sharply, just missing stomping on Tom’s foot with her spiked heel. “Of course they’re going to drive them mad. That’s why it’s time for us to get the hell out of here before they realize it and leave us with our kids again.”

“Ahh. Right,” Tom says. He comes over to Harry and pats him on the back. He gives Ryder a kiss where Louis is sat down with him on the sofa and kisses Lux and Pax on the head. “You all be good to your uncles, yeah?” Tom says. He points a finger at Lux and Pax in what he probably thinks is a threatening gesture. They both at least wait until his back is turned to roll their eyes. 

“Come on,” Pax whispers to Lux. She looks down at him and raises her eyebrow, and Pax adds, “Let’s go outside and practice throwing the ball around before Uncle Lou comes out. Then we can _really_ beat him.”

“Hey!” Louis yelps, but they just wave excitedly and run out of the house, the screen door banging shut behind him. 

“Okay, ring us if you need anything,” Lou says. She’s grabbed her purse and kisses Ryder goodbye. “Like. If someone loses a limb or something. Other than that, you know. Don’t call.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “Good _bye_ Louise.”

Lou and Tom laugh and wave and then they’re gone. Harry can hear them calling a goodbye to Lux and Pax and then the slam of the truck door closing behind them. 

Harry breathes out and looks over at Louis who’s already watching him with a fond smile on his face. Harry sits down on the sofa next to him, close enough that their thighs touch and tips his head down to kiss Louis on the forehead. Ryder looks up at Harry and grins, his gummy little baby smile making Harry’s chest go tight. 

“Hey, bud,” Harry says quietly. He runs the back of one finger over Ryder’s soft cheek. Ryder tries to grab Harry’s finger and stick it in his mouth. Harry laughs and lets him. He feels Louis’s foot nudge his on the floor. 

“I want this,” Louis says, voice quiet but firm. Harry looks at him, and Louis’s eyes are sparkling a bright, clear blue. Harry wants to look into them for the rest of his life. “All of this, Hazza. I want all of this.”

“All of this?” Harry asks, smirking a little and motioning to the absolute tip Lou’s living room is in. “All of Lou and Tom’s crap?”

“No, you knobhead,” Louis says. He shakes his head, and he doesn’t need to clarify. Harry knows exactly what he means. “The baby though. Our own baby. Maybe a few of them.”

Harry’s looking at him now, and he can’t look away. 

“Yeah,” Harry whispers. His voice wobbles and he bites his lip. “I want that, too.”

“I want the dog we talked about and babies and just -- I don’t know. Fuck, Harry.” Louis laughs nervously and runs his fingers through his hair. He winds up making a mess of it, sections standing up in crazy tufts at the back of his head. He’s in a ratty blue t-shirt and a pair of Harry’s old jogging bottoms, and he reaches out and lays his hand on top of Harry's. He’s absolutely everything Harry’s ever wanted. 

“I want to get married,” Louis says in a rush. He blinks quickly, like he can’t believe what he’s just said, but then nods, repeating himself with a steady voice. “Not right now, but like. Someday. I want -- I really want that.”

“Married,” Harry whispers, so quietly he can barely hear himself. His heart is beating triple time, and his hands start to shake. He’s never wanted anything so badly in his life. “Someday yeah,” he says again, looking at Louis and smiling. “Yes. Definitely.”

“Ok,” Louis says. He blows out a shaky breath, and Harry’s thinks it’s ridiculous that Louis could be nervous about this. Harry’s never been so sure about anything in his entire life. “Ok, so this is it then, yeah?” Louis asks. 

Harry thinks he’s never been happier. “Yeah. This is it, Lou. We’re it.” 

Louis looks up at him and smiles the same smile Harry’s loved since he was sixteen. Harry can’t wait to love him for the rest of his life. 

He laces their fingers together and holds on tight. 

 

-END-

 

_Oh my god, it’s you._  
 _I never thought I’d see you here._  
 _Looks like all is well,_  
 _like you’re having a hell of a good time._  
 _Me? I’m not gonna lie._  
 _Got the sunshine on my shoulders,_  
 _Got a fistful of four leaf clovers,_  
 _Yeah my cup runneth over,_  
 _My sky is blue._  
 _Been kissed by Lady Luck,_  
 _The stars are all lined up,_  
 _Every arrow that I aim is true,_  
 _But I miss you._

_-Kacey Musgraves  
I Miss You_

**Author's Note:**

> Link to the amazing fic mix by idctbqh here. ty again, doll!:
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